Cross Jurisdiction
by casus17
Summary: When a marine turns up dead, you call NCIS. When a marine turns up dead, with Iratus bug DNA... well then you need SGA-1. Head butting will ensue. NCIS crossover
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Stargate Atlantis _or_ NCIS, cause I am not rich enough... So, you know, _hint_... As in, no point doing anything about it.

**Author's Note:** So, I have had one of the best days! Cake at the ripe time of 12 AM, a good night's sleep, well, that just got it off to a good start. Working kind of sucked, but the happenings before it certainly made up for it. Got honked, in that good way, from a cute guy who used the whole, 'what's happening' eyebrow raise when I looked at him. Then my tax return went through, which means I actually could afford the deposit for a trip with uni to an archaeological dig in Italy middle of next year. And it's raining, but that's also a good thing! Cause rain is fun, cause it's kinda warm and it was still managing to hail, it ws awesome fun. And now... well, now I have chocolate and I've had red bull, which is probably the reason for this _long_ intro...

So, anyways, I thought, what - besides the premiere of season 4 of Supernatural tonight and SGA tomorrow - could make this day even better? Why, posting this little crossover, of course!

But you would not believe how unbelievably hard to make up and then solve an investigation when your only training is television...

And now, on with the story! It's set season 5 SGA and earlier than season 5 NCIS, for those who care.

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**CROSS JURISDICTION**

**Chapter 1:**

His bare feet thudded on the loose planks of the long, wide pier, making the entire wooden structure groan and shift as he ran as fast as he could along it. The night was dark, the stars hidden by storm clouds that made the sea tang in the air dissipate slightly.

But he noticed none of that.

He did notice the three sets of boots pounding after him. He noticed the splinters that sent tiny jabs of pain up through the nerve endings in his feet. He noticed the way his legs wobbled even as he ran, the drug pumping through his system making him unsteady and unstable.

He noticed the way he knew he was changing, noticed the greater feelings of rage and aggression, the way he thought less and less about how he had been kidnapped right out of his motel room by men so he could become their science experiment. He noticed he way he thought more and more about killing and hurting and destroying.

But he had somehow managed to retain enough of himself, enough of who he was, to know that he had to get out. So he had slipped his restraints – as a marine he was supposed to be good at these things – and he had run, escaping the dilapidated warehouse far enough ahead of some of the guards that he had begun thinking he had a chance.

Now, as he heard those guards getting closer, he knew his chances were slim.

Even as he dashed further from the warehouse, his breath hitching, his heart racing, his feet blurs in the night, they were getting closer. He could see the land end of the pier close by, the exact spot where wood met concrete. He knew if he could just make it onto that then the boxes and crates spread out on the raised concrete would give him shelter.

But apparently the guards chasing him knew that too.

It was as he leapt, aiming for the hard concrete a foot above the pier, that the shots called out, all three guns firing simultaneously. He was shoved forward, three white hot spots flaring in his back as he fell face down onto the concrete, entire body going numb as heat flowed from and down his back, down his sides to spread out in a pool about him.

The world blinked, and then greyed, the night seeping in from the corner of his eyes to leave the world black. And then he fell into death.

* * *

"What are you thinking?"

Ziva David looked up as McGee came to stand next to her before the plasma, upon which photos of their latest crime scene were displayed. The marine shoved uncaringly into a corner of a back alley downtown was bare-chested except for his dog tags identifying him as Private Zachary Merton. By all accounts it looked like he had been mugged – his wallet, phone and watch were missing – but Ziva had been investigating crime scenes long enough now to know just how deceiving looks could be.

She shook her head in reply to McGee's question. "Just that the person or people who did this… They did not seem to care about what they were trying to make the scene look like. They came up with an idea but could only be bothered to create the most basic disguise for what truly happened."

McGee nodded, staring at the photo with her. "I know what you mean. What mugger takes someone's shirt? Or shoots someone in the back three times? Besides the fact that there's not enough blood in the alley for that to be the place Merton was murdered, there's a whole bunch of things wrong."

"Like what, McGee?"

Both Ziva and aforementioned probie jumped at the sound of their boss just behind them, the Mossad agent spinning to face Agent Gibbs while McGee turned somewhat more slowly, a startled look still on his face.

"Uh, like… I mean, the fact that he was moved." He looked to Ziva as if asking for help, but she just grinned and let him continue on his own. "The fact that it looks like someone dressed him in those jeans after he was dead. There's not enough blood on them otherwise. Even though he was shot in the back, he's sitting down, with his back against the wall." He was getting into a rhythm now. "And then there's the bruises around his wrist, as if he was restrained."

"And of course," Ziva added, pressing a button on the remote and moving to a picture of his elbow. "There's the needle marks, a dozen of them all from the past few days." She turned to Gibbs. "Abby's running a blood test now. She should be able to tell us what he was taking."

The greying NCIS agent nodded, which was about as much praise as either of them had come to expect. Turning away, he looked at the desk to his right. "Where's DiNozzo?"

Ziva and McGee turned to look at the desk as well, before the Mossad agent checked her watch. "He's -."

"Back," the final member of the team called out as he walked past the dividers that separated work stations. "From getting what information he could from Merton's fellow marines."

DiNozzo dumped his bag on his desk and turned to face the others as they waited expectantly. "I spoke to Private Merton's unit, and also a Staff Sergeant Jackson. Apparently Merton was on leave after a tour in Afghanistan. He'd only been back nine days. So I went to Merton's motel, the manager said he'd checked out over a week ago. Or rather, a girlfriend of his did."

"A girlfriend?" Gibbs asked with more than a hint of disbelief. DiNozzo shrugged and leaned back against his desk.

"That's what I thought. Especially after I remembered that Staff Sergeant Jackson and various other marines had told me that outside the marines, Merton basically had no life. Troubled childhood, a few offences, court appearances… he always claimed the marines turned his life around. His unit didn't know of any girlfriend, family, or even acquaintances outside the army. So I got a photo of the girl from security cameras, but she paid in cash, so no credit card.

"I asked the manager when the last time he had seen Merton was, he said eight days." He looked at the photos on the plasma, before moving around his desk to sit at his computer. "There was nothing in his room that I could see. No blood, no sign of a struggle. There was another couple already in there, so it was hard to be sure, but either he left without resistance or without being conscious."

Without a word, Gibbs turned and left, and his team moved back to their desks to get working on the case, used to his abrupt manner, taking no insult from it. It was juts Gibbs' way.

Agent Gibbs thought nothing of it either. He just walked to the elevator at the back and made his way down a few flights to the lab where the NCIS forensic expert worked. He only made one stop on the way.

For once the music was almost bearable, and turned down so low it didn't really matter. Abby, in all her gothic glory, was clearly waiting for him, a huge smile on her face. It only widened as her eyes fell on the Caf-Pow in Gibbs' hand.

"You're slipping, Gibbs," she told him, still eyeing off the huge drink in the man's hand. Eyeing her, grinning inside, he held the drink back.

"How so?" he asked, watching her squirm as he didn't hand over the caffeine-heavy cup. Her eyes flicked from the drink to Gibbs.

"Well, I found something out a few minutes ago," she told him, getting edgy now. "Usually you're here after only seconds. I was just thinking I might have to remember the number for your office."

Eyeing her carefully, Gibbs smiled and handed over the Caf-Pow. "I was just about to come down here when DiNozzo returned," he told her. "So, what do you have?"  
She took a long draw through the thick straw and turned to her computer, shaking her head and getting down to business. Gibbs came to stand beside her, though there was no way he was ever going to understand more than a fifth of the technical words spread over one of the screens.

"What do I have?" she demanded, looking at him as she placed the Caf-Pow aside. "That is a very good question, Gibbs. I have… blood tests, bullet fragments, fragments of some other kind that Ducky pulled from Private Merton's feet that I'm analysing right now. Well, not me, but my machine…" She trailed off as she saw the look on Gibbs' face. "So, blood test first?"

Gibbs nodded and she tapped away on her computer. "Good, because that's what I just got results on… and it's more than a little hinky."

"Why?" the agent asked, staring at the screen, even when he wasn't sure he could even pronounce the words on the screen, let alone say or use them.

"Well, we can say for sure it's Merton. And he was being drugged. Or was taking them. That's up to you to decide. Either way, he had a rather strange cocktail in his system. It's got some of the… usuals in it – steroids, rage-inducents, as well as a few suppressants…"

"That's usual?" Gibbs demanded, looking at her and then looking at the computer again. "Cause that's not in any tablets I ever take."

"It's usual when you compare it to what else was in there," she told him rather darkly, shaking her head. Her black pigtails moved with it.

"Why?" Gibbs asked. "What was in it?"

"I don't know," she told him, her voice gathering pitch. She seemed rather devastated by it. "It's from something living, because it has DNA in it. But my computer couldn't tell me what the DNA belonged to. Didn't have a clue. Wasn't even close to anything in my database. And I have _everything_ in my database."

Gibbs frowned, and stared at her. "So what, some kind of venom, or poison?" he asked, a little confused. She shook her head again.

"No. At least, I don't think so. Look, the whole thing, it's very, _very_ advanced, whatever it is. And if I had to make a guess, I'd say that the drug given to Merton over the time he was… missing, I guess… I'd say it was some kind of gene therapy. Experimental gene therapy if the various levels he was given are any sign."

Gibbs' eyebrows climbed, and he looked at the computer, squinting slightly as he focused on the words. "That's pretty dark," he told her, leaning back and thinking. "So Private Merton was kidnapped to be experimented on."

* * *

Over in Colorado, beneath Cheyenne Mountain, the Stargate, a secret from the vast majority of Americans, including most of their government and armed services, activated in a sudden horizontal vortex, before snapping back in and rippling slightly within the ring.

A minute later, identities confirmed, the lead team for the Atlantis expedition to the Pegasus Galaxy stepped through, small bags in their hands, grim looks on the faces of the two originally from Earth.

Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard led them down the ramp, greeting Generals Landry and O'Neill where they waited at the bottom. O'Neill took the lead, speaking while Landry watched on.

"Colonel Sheppard, sorry to pull you away from your duties on Atlantis." He nodded at the three behind the pilot. "McKay, Ms Emmagen, Mr Dex. Happy to have you."

"We heard you have a small problem, sir," Sheppard said, moving off the ramp as the Stargate shut down. "And we're happy to help out."

O'Neill nodded. "Good. Let's get to it then. We haven't got much time. We're going to brief you, and then Colonel Ellis is waiting to beam you up. So, let's get this done."

They all moved to the conference room, handing their bags to the two lieutenants who came to grab them. Taking their seats around the table, General Landry began the briefing.

"A few months ago, one of our scientists at Area 51 quit his job and walked away. We've been keeping an eye on him, or we were. One month ago he disappeared, and it was around that time that we found out some of the material he had been working on was missing."

"What was he working on?" McKay asked, taking a long drink of water. O'Neill spun on his chair and avoided looking at Sheppard as the pilot leafed through the report he had found in the middle of the table.

"Iratus bugs," O'Neill told him, and Sheppard winced, looking up, utter disgust on his face.

"I hate those things."

"Your dislike has been noted," Landry told him, gesturing at the reports remaining on the table. The other three team members grabbed a copy and opened the folder.

"Hmm," McKay said as he did so. "It's been noted several times."

Sheppard glared at him. "I'd like to see you have one attached to your neck," he spat, before turning back to his superiors. "So what does this have to do with us and a dead marine?"

Rodney looked up and mouthed 'dead marine' before looking quickly through the report. Landry turned on the plasma and let the images of the dead marine fill the screen. McKay groaned.

"We just got a hit from a lab belonging to NCIS," Landry told him. "Because it's a marine, they picked it up. And this marine was being drugged. With something that had Iratus DNA in it."

The team exchanged dark looks. "So this scientist is attempting to create his own hybrids?" Teyla asked, just to make sure they were all thinking the same thing.

"It would appear so," Landry told them. "Which is why we called you in. We need you to take over this investigation. NCIS agents do not know about interstellar travel. Or alien bugs from planets in other galaxies."

He turned the plasma off and turned to Sheppard. "The _Apollo_ will beam you down to Washington so you can go to NCIS headquarters and take over this investigation from an Agent Gibbs," he told the pilot, handing him a folded letter. "Make sure you get all their information, data, evidence, to take back to the _Apollo_. We need to catch this scientist and whoever he's working for. And international security needs to be maintained." He glanced over them, then frowned, taking in Ronon's outlandish clothes and the Atlantis uniforms of the others. "After you get changed, of course."

* * *

"What have you got, Ducky?"

The short medical examiner looked up from where he was washing his hands as Gibbs entered the morgue, followed by DiNozzo and Ziva, who appeared to be annoying each other once more. They stopped as they entered the morgue, falling silent at the sight of Merton lying on the cold table.

Dr Mallard, affectionately known as Ducky to everyone at NCIS, turned as the three agents entered and walked over.

"Something of which the likes I have never seen," he told them immediately in his rich accent. "I have to say, Jethro." Jethro being Gibbs. "I have never autopsied a body like young Private Merton."

DiNozzo moved closer and leaned over. "Looks pretty standard on the outside," he spoke up without thinking. "I mean, as far as dead bodies go."

Gibbs went a little stiff but didn't say anything to his agent. Instead, he turned to Ducky. "What's different about him?" he asked.

Ducky shook his head. "Whatever was in his system had dramatically changed his physiology. His muscles were bigger than any I have ever seen in a man his size, even for a marine. But with the dosages he was on, there were far more changes for the worse."

He moved over to a light board and switched it on to illuminate the x-rays of Merton's chest. "His lungs were rather shrunken. His heart was close to giving out before he was shot. And… I can't believe I'm going to say this, but his bones appeared to be mutating."

"Mutating?" Both DiNozzo and Ziva demanded, the former moving quickly away from the corpse. The Mossad agent spared her colleague a disparaging glance before continuing. "Mutating how?"

"It's hard to explain," Ducky told them, obviously struggling to get the words out. "But his bones were… bending, I suppose you could call it. I'm not sure what the end result would be."

Gibbs let that sink in. "So, was he killed by being shot?" he asked.

Ducky nodded. "He was. Abby should have the results on the three bullets now. But I can tell you some things for sure," he added, turning the light off. "Someone put those shoes on him. He was running from someone, or I assume he was. He had splinter sized shells and wood embedded in his feet. And he was being restrained, for a few days at least. Those bruises are new overlapping old. Continuous. And he had a dozen needle puncture marks in his right arm, all ranging from six to two days old."

"So he wasn't there by will," DiNozzo stated the obvious. He stood up straight and answered the inevitable question. "McGee's running her photo right now, Boss. The picture was pretty clear, so if she's in the system we'll get her."

Gibbs nodded, and then gestured a little violently at the door. "Well. Go see if there's anything there already."

DiNozzo nodded and left, while Ziva moved closer. Gibbs turned to Ducky. "Anything else I need to know?" he asked. Ducky gave a small, non-committal shrug. "What is it, Ducky?"

"Nothing pertinent, I believe. I mean, those bullets definitely killed him."

"But?" Ziva asked, both her and her boss hearing the unsaid conjunction. Ducky sighed and took his glasses off, looking perplexed.

"But, I do believe that if he hadn't been hit by all three bullets, he would not have died."

* * *

Lots more of our favourite SGA team next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I'm not a native to Washington DC. In fact, I'm not even American. I live half a world away and only know what I know from TV and Wikipedia (which the student in me hates using, so not good, all that lack of… well, evidence). Anyways, if I get some geography or city thing wrong, try not to shoot me, it bugs me enough as is. Can't help it if these guys don't film in Melbourne…

On a happier note... the response to this story has been incredible! For me, anyways, well, any review is incredible, but this is... awesomenes times infinity. I hope I can keep you all entertained throughout the entire story! Thanks to everyone!

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Chapter 2:

From the morgue, Gibbs led Ziva in silence to Abby's lab, hoping she had something for him. Something that would lead him to wherever Merton had been held and experimented on.

The music still wasn't loud, and Ziva and Gibbs split up, flanking their forensic expert where she was working on her computer again.

"Hey guys," she said, smiling brightly. "You're right on time! I just got the results back from the bullets."

She turned and moved to the table where the three bullets salvaged from Merton's body. "Just like I suspected, the bullets come from three different weapons. All 9mm, all Berettas. But different weapons nonetheless. Whatever Merton was being put through, it was no backyard lab experiment."

"What about the splinters in his feet?" Ziva asked, and Abby's smile widened further as she moved to one of her various machines.

"That was more promising than anything so far. The shell belonged to ordinary crayfish, but it does mean that what you're looking for has some connection with the sea."

"Which could be dozens of places," Gibbs told her, following her around her lab. She turned to him and pointed.

"True. But there aren't dozens of places where he could have picked up the other splinters that were in his feet." She grabbed a small container and showed them both a blood-stained tiny piece of… "Wood. Old wood. And, it was covered in…" She trailed off, frowning as she realized technical terms would mean nothing to her audience. "It was covered in sea salt. So, most likely you're looking for something by the sea, near the old piers."

Gibbs nodded, smiling slightly. "Good work, Abs." He nodded at Ziva, and she turned and left immediately to track down large enough buildings for science experiments. "Did you get anything more on that drug?"

Abby lost some of her good nature. "No! I couldn't find anything. There's nothing anywhere, or at least, nothing reported, that has that DNA. I don't know how to find it, either."

Gibbs nodded, and smiled. "Don't worry about it, Abby. We'll get these guys and then we'll ask them."

He left straight away, grinning as she turned up her music as he disappeared through the door. He headed for his office space, sure his team would have found some place to start. Either on that woman, or the warehouses by the old piers, they would have found something.

What he didn't count on were the four strangers waiting in his office space, being watched cautiously by the rest of the NCIS team.

Gibbs slowed as he approached, studying the newcomers. Consisting of three men and one woman, they looked slightly out of place. Two of them especially.

The one talking was quite obviously the leader, hands on the top of his jeans, flinging his dress jacket back to reveal the bottom tip of his shoulder holster. Before him, the tallest one shifted uncomfortably, as if his own jacket and jeans were constricting, the dreads on his head tied back in some semblance of professionalism. The third man leaned against the partition, a look of annoyance on his face, as if he wasn't used to waiting. The woman actually managed to appear comfortable, but her hands kept on going to the bottom of her shirt and she shifted every now and then, as if she wasn't used to the heels half hidden by her dress pants. Small details that gave away their discomfort.

The leader turned as Gibbs team stood up at their own leader's approach, and the ex-marine eyed the man carefully. About DiNozzo's age, he didn't look like a cop or an investigator, but he was clearly not feeling out of place. Not like the other three. He was obviously confident, too, not being moved at all by the hard stare Gibbs sent his way.

"I'm guessing you're Agent Gibbs," the man said, stepping forward, taking his hands off his hips. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force."

Funny, but he didn't look like a pilot. At least, his clothes didn't. Though now that he mentioned it, Gibbs could see it in his eyes. "What can I do for you, Colonel Sheppard?"

"You can hand over all the information you've gathered on the death of Private Merton," he told the greying investigator. "I'm here to take over the case."

* * *

When Agent Gibbs went stiff, John knew he had touched a nerve. But there was nothing he could do about that.

Without saying a word, Gibbs motioned to Sheppard to follow him. Telling his team to stay put with a glance, he caught up to the investigator as the man made his way up the stairs. And still the man didn't say a word.

Man, he was really pissed about this.

Agent Gibbs led him up the stair and through the office belonging to a secretary who looked like she had seen this before. She had barely had a chance to pick up her phone and inform the occupant of the office before them before Gibbs had burst through the handsome wooden door and startled the woman behind the desk.

Sheppard had done his own, albeit small, research on NCIS. The woman was Director Jenny Shepard – no relation to himself – the person in charge of the Navy's investigation agency.

Gibbs didn't even give her a chance. "This… person," he spat, pointing at Sheppard. The pilot raised a single eyebrow at it, slightly amused. Gibbs continued. "Wants to take over my investigation!"

Wow, he was really, really pissed.

The Director went tense as well, and she looked at Sheppard. "And you are?"

"Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," he introduced himself again, before pulling the letter Landry had given him from a pocket. "United States Air Force."

Director Shepard tilted her head at him, before taking the letter and reading it, her eyes widening slightly. The mood in the office became just that little bit more uncomfortable.

As soon as she had finished, she handed the letter to Gibbs, who scanned through it at arm's length. But the Director didn't wait for her agent.

"And why does the Air Force want control of this investigation?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral. But Sheppard was no fool, and he had spent the last four years learning to read people. She was annoyed as well.

And he wasn't about to help matters. "Not control, ma'am. I am taking this investigation. Those orders are for your agents to completely forget about this case."

She knew that but seemed surprised that he had no qualms about reminding her in such a determined way. She smiled sweetly. "Okay. Why does the Air Force want this investigation?"

"They're not Air Force," Gibbs said, tossing the letter on Director Shepard's tidy desk. John looked at him, a little surprised. Gibbs saw it. "Oh, I believe you are. But the rest of your team isn't. The short guy is a civilian. And the other two… I'm not sure about."

That seemed to surprise the Director this time. She looked at Gibbs and then turned back to Sheppard. "Who do you work for, then?" she demanded. "If not the Air Force."

Sheppard glanced at Gibbs. "Sorry, ma'am, but… you don't have the clearance to know that."

They both stared at him. "Excuse me?" she demanded. "I have one of the highest security clearances that exist."

"Not high enough," he told them bluntly. "And those orders clearly state that. Just like they clearly state, _from_ SecNav, that this investigation is a matter of national security." Well, international, but they couldn't know that. "You are to give us every bit of information concerning Private Merton. As soon as possible."

"What's going on?" Gibbs demanded, and John smiled at him. Or smirked, rather, and it seemed to annoy the agent.

"Sorry, but you're not authorised to know that either."

"Can you tell us why my agents are not even allowed to have input in this particular case?" Director Shepard asked, her voice back to diplomatic.

John thought about that for a moment. "Your agents don't have the… qualifications for this investigation," he told her succinctly.

"Excuse me?" Gibbs demanded, turning to face him. "And how many investigations have you not only handled but solved?"

Sheppard looked him in the eye, unimpressed by the cold glare the agent was giving him. It was easy to stare down a man when you had faced down psychic Wraith queens who wanted to suck the life from you.

"This case requires a whole new set of qualifications," he told them both, though his gaze never left Gibbs. "And fortunately, mine lie within that set."

He turned to Director Shepard, prepared to say more, but she beat him to it. "You know, usually people ask for joint investigation, rather than taking over the whole case."

It wasn't a question, but John shook his head anyway. "Not in this case." He glanced at Gibbs. "I am sorry to do this." And he actually did sound sorry. "But everyone will be much better off if me and my team handles this, and if your people forget all about it."

* * *

DiNozzo snapped his fingers as he looked over McGee's computer on the pretence of having a regular chat. He was actually trying to hide McGee from the sight of the three strangers who were now standing by the window, having their own private conversation.

"Come on, probie," DiNozzo ordered, trying not to look behind him at the three imposers, not wanting to draw suspicion. "These guys wouldn't be asking for any of this if they weren't going to get it. Copy it with a little more speed."

McGee shot him a withering look. "Do you wanna do this?" he demanded. "Cause it's not exactly a walk in the park to copy everything we have so far!"

His voice never left a hissed whisper, but DiNozzo shushed him anyway. "Careful, probie. Can't talk too loud, they'll hear you."

McGee leaned around and looked at the three waiting for their leader. All the way over by the window. He looked up at Tony. "So what, they have superhearing now?"

Tony stared at him. "It goes with their suicidal tendencies," he muttered before shaking his head. "What does the air force have to do with this anyway?"

McGee shrugged as he began typing again. "No idea. But I'm surprised Gibbs didn't chew them out right here."

Tony shook his head. "No, I don't really think it would have mattered if he had tried." He had been a cop long enough to _know_ people. "That colonel wouldn't have even blinked."

McGee looked up at him, a slight grin on his face. "You blink. Hell, even Ziva blinks, sometimes," he reminded him.

DiNozzo snapped his fingers again, trying to hurry the probie up, but McGee leaned back and pulled the USB out of the port, before glaring up at Tony. "Done," he told the older man as he carefully put the memory card in his desk draw. "And Abby shouldn't have taken long either."

It appeared he was just in time, too. DiNozzo's head snapped up, and he backed away from McGee's desk, watching as Gibbs came back downstairs with Colonel Sheppard on his tail. The younger man was on his phone, and DiNozzo listened in as he made his way back to his own desk.

"Yes sir," the colonel said as he made his way over to his own team. "I'm about to get the files now. We'll be back with Colonel Ellis in a few minutes."

He paused and nodded at his team, who stood up straighter as he joined them. "No, sir, not many problems." Sheppard looked around and noticed DiNozzo staring at him. "I'll contact you in ten minutes, sir, when we've got the information."

He snapped the phone shut and walked over to where Gibbs was standing by his desk. "There will be a transport here in a few minutes to collect Private Merton's body." He shifted on his feet. "Be sure to remind your people that we need every little piece of it."

Gibbs stared at him for a moment, and DiNozzo was sure that at any time they were going to stand up on their toes and start circling each other before beginning the fight over territory and…

He watched way too many documentaries.

"DiNozzo, go and tell Ducky the good news. Ziva, go help Abby with bringing her side up here." Gibbs didn't even look away, but his two underlings did as they were told instantly. "McGee, download all our information for the colonel here."

* * *

Sheppard nodded, and then turned to make his way back to his own team, unaware or uncaring of the daggers being sent into his back by Gibbs stare.

"Did they talk to you or anything?" he asked as he approached the window, trying not to shrug as Gibbs continued to stare at him.

Teyla shook her head. "No, they remained in their section, though the woman did stare at us quite a lot."

Sheppard chuckled. "Yeah, they've got the staring thing down pat. They're not happy about us taking over."

"They're not going to forget about this case," Ronon told him suddenly, and Sheppard looked up at him, a little surprised when McKay nodded with him.

"That guy was copying things from his computer onto a USB or something," the scientist told him. "They were trying to be subtle about it, but apparently Teyla has 'superhearing'."

John stared at him, and McKay shrugged. "She could hear what they were saying. They copied everything and then hid it away."

Sheppard thought about calling the agents on it for a moment before shrugging. "It doesn't matter. Let them. They're not going to get anywhere with what we leave them. Besides, the drug found in Merton's system belonged to an alien bug. And the scientist behind it is from Area 51. They're not going to be able to do much."

He had just finished speaking when Ronon stood up straight and nodded. John turned and found the agents returning with boxes of information and evidence, the one called Ziva accompanied by a gothic looking woman in a lab coat, who was not looking happy.

Sheppard turned and nodded at his team. Ronon and Teyla walked forward, taking the various boxes from the arms of the NCIS agents. Sheppard went with them, not saying a word. No need to pour salt into wounds, and all that. Then he realized that Rodney had remained at the window.

He turned. "McKay!" he cried, and the scientist huffed and rolled his eyes, pushing off the window sill to grab a few boxes from Teyla. Sheppard turned back to Gibbs, who was standing in front of his annoyed team.

"Thank you," he told them, taking the disc that the young agent gave him, before following his team to the elevator.

* * *

As soon as they had gone, Director Shepard materialized out of nowhere, or so it seemed. Gibbs turned to her, and took in her hard stare. The rest of them sighed.

"I can't believe we just got pulled off that case," DiNozzo complained, leaning back on McGee's desk. "What does the air force want with a marine anyway?"

The Director looked at him, her mouth set grimly. "Apparently we're not authorised to know," she told him, which brought a round of disbelief from those who hadn't heard it before. "But Colonel Sheppard had a letter from SecNav telling us to stand down."

"And are we?" Gibbs asked quietly.

The Director looked at him, not answering for a moment. Then she shook her head, just quickly. "Officially, we are. But there is something weird going on here, and I want to know what it is. Colonel Sheppard was no investigator. I took the liberty of looking him up. He's a pilot, or he was. He was stationed in Antarctica until four years ago when he just disappeared. There's no record of him since then."

The team looked at each other, wondering what that could mean. Gibbs asked the question first. "Black ops?"

The Director shook her head. "I don't know. But he disappeared off the face of the planet." She had no idea how right she was. "And now reappears when we get this case. I don't like it. Continue your investigation, _quietly._ I'm going to give some people a ring, see if I can find out what's going on."

She turned and left, and Gibbs started issuing orders. "McGee, find out what you can about them."

"We only got Colonel Sheppard's name," McKay said quickly, moving back slightly as Gibbs stared at him. Ziva saved the probie.

"He called the shorter man McKay. That is something to go on, at least."

McGee nodded, slightly relieved, and sat down at his computer to start typing furiously. Gibbs turned to DiNozzo and Ziva.

"DiNozzo, continue looking for that woman. Ziva, research the old piers down by the docks. Ducky found crayfish shell and pier splinters in Merton's feet, which means he was at least there. See if you can't narrow it down."

Setting his people to their tasks, Gibbs turned and headed for the morgue, wanting to be there when someone came for the body.

They could just try and take his case away from him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Can I just say... WOW! You guys are amazing, 21 reviews for the one chapter! You have no idea how much that made my day! So, thank you, again, everyone, and I hope I replied to everyone's reviews, that I could.

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Chapter 3:

"How come Ronon and Teyla don't have to help with this?"

Sheppard sighed as he heard the question for the third time. He looked up at McKay from where he was looking through the initial report on the crime scene, blinking as he turned away from the computer.

"Do you really think they would understand a word of this?" he demanded. "It's all Earth terms and Earth people and Earth things. They're better off looking at the physical evidence, see if they can't find anything… strange."

He tried to go back to the computer screen but McKay snorted. "Oh, you mean stranger than someone making hybrids on Earth?"

"Just finish going through the autopsy report." _Before I shoot you._

They had been aboard the _Apollo_ for three hours now, looking through reports and data and findings, trying to familiarise themselves with the case. And McKay had been complaining for every minute of it.

"I can't believe you're making me go through the autopsy report. You should be doing it, you have a much stronger stomach."

Sheppard sighed and rubbed his eyes. "You're kidding me, right? All those chemical terms and weird names for things. I wouldn't understand half of it." Besides, it was kind of fun watching McKay squirm at all the close ups.

"So why isn't NID or someone helping out?"

The pilot groaned and leaned back, wishing he had some coffee. "Because they're busy. Because we're the ones trying to find these scientists who are experimenting with Iratus bug DNA. Because if you don't shut up and get to work, I am going to gag you."

He sounded like he meant it, too. McKay swallowed what he was about to say and ducked his head, getting to work. Sheppard watched him a moment longer before moving onto the notes of one of the agents, pushing the computer aside. It was making his eyes blurry anyways. The notes belong to an Anthony DiNozzo, or something. The scribble was kind of hard to understand.

But as he deciphered it, he sat up straighter, thinking he had just found their first lead.

"I think I have something."

McKay dropped what he was reading through to look up as Sheppard spoke. The pilot glanced at him, before reading through the notes once more.

"We know Merton was on leave. He was staying at this hotel a few clicks from the base. Apparently a girlfriend checked the marine out eight days ago. But no one actually say Merton leaving, and his buddies all say that he didn't have a girlfriend."

McKay snapped his fingers and leafed through the papers he was looking at. "I think you do have something," he declared, finding what he was looking for. "The medical examiner says he was drugged over a period of six to seven days. Fits the timeline. We need to find that woman."

"I've got a picture here." He went to stand up. "Just let me go run it, shouldn't take long. Hopefully."

"Hang on!" McKay said loudly, grabbing the examiner's report again. "Forensics found something to go on in Merton's feet. Wood from a pier and crayfish shell, like he had been running barefoot over them. Which means he must have escaped, and he must have done so from one of the old docks or warehouses along the old piers."

Sheppard nodded, still half-risen. He thought carefully for a moment, and then stood up straight, handing the picture to McKay. "You run this, see if you can find her. I'll get Ellis to give the old piers a sweep with the life signs detector. See if we can't find the exact location and wrap this thing up quick smart."

"Wait," McKay said, a little confused. "Are we trying to solve the murder or stop the experiments."

Sheppard looked at him, slightly exasperated. "Both, McKay," he snapped. "Those scientists did kill Private Merton. Catch them, catch the murderers."

He shook his head, leaving the scientist to do the computer stuff as he made his way to the bridge to do the looking stuff.

The crew looked up as he entered, and Ellis rose from his chair to meet him. "Do you have something, Colonel?"

Sheppard nodded. "I think so. Can you do a life signs sweep of the old piers, checking the warehouses for a large group of them." They had already realized that an experiment of this magnitude would need more than the one scientist from Area 51. To keep a marine in line, they would need guards, as well as doctors to keep him alive. And money. Lots of money. But the IOA was handling that side of the investigation.

Ellis nodded at one of his crew, who tapped away on his terminal. The two colonels moved across the bridge to one of the screens, and as they approached the basic outline of the structure below popped up.

"There," Sheppard said, pointing at one of the only buildings that had any life signs in it. He tapped the radio in his ear. "McKay, look up this warehouse for me." He told the man the address. "Who owns it?"

There was a moment of silence before the answer came back. "An old fishing company, but it says here that they abandoned it years ago when the previous owner died and left it to his daughter. She shut the company down."

Sheppard shared a grin with Ellis. "Looks like he have our scientists. Can you beam me and Ronon, with a team of marines, down there?"

Ellis nodded and ordered one of his men to ready three units of marines. John called for the Satedan while giving McKay and Teyla some orders. "I want you two to stay here, keep working on finding that woman. If this warehouse is a bust, she'll be our only lead. Oh, and see what you can find out about the owner of this warehouse."

McKay made a noise of disgust, muttering something about doing all the work, which John promptly ignored. Nodding at Ellis, he went to meet Ronon and the marines assembling to accompany them down. He pulled on a vest, happy with the speed this investigation had just found, and got ready to beam down to the city.

The _Apollo's_ beaming technology deposited them around the warehouse, guns out, with Ronon not happy about not being allowed to use his own. Even Sheppard's earlier speech about not attracting interest didn't seem to help much.

Making sure they hadn't been detected by pausing for just a moment, Sheppard listened carefully. He could still hear noise from inside, but they appeared to be rushing. No doubt packing up shop after the discovery of Merton's body earlier that day.

Well, they couldn't let them escape. Tapping his radio once again, Sheppard gave the order. "Teams one and two, go!"

They burst through the three doors Sheppard had marked on the _Apollo_, guns up, voices shouting to add to the confusion and effect. The scientists inside all jumped, and somewhere a woman screamed, but neither Sheppard nor his team could think about that.

Because the moment they entered, a guard started firing. And pretty soon his buddies joined in.

Sheppard dived out of the way, joined by two marines who hid with him behind a packed crate. He knew two of his men had been hit, but he couldn't do much to help that right now.

He turned on his heels to face the gun fire and ducked over the crate to take a few shots. He didn't want to kill them, and so he aimed for legs and arms, but he wasn't about to let them kill anymore of his men. Prisoners would be good, but they weren't necessary.

So he took down two of the guards with careful shots, before ducking back down and going over what he had seen.

There were three scientists who were still clearing their things, and it was obvious the guards were just trying to buy them time to escape. Thinking quickly, Sheppard tapped his radio.

"Ronon, you're on," he called, knowing the Satedan was waiting with the third unit of marines out the back. Turning back around, he lifted himself up to take another three shots – this time only hitting the single guard – before Ronon's arrival could be heard from the back. The third team of marines came in via the side, taking down a few more guards before the men turned on the soldiers.

Sheppard took the opportunity, standing up straight and firing. The two marines with him did the same, and, under fire from two sides, the guards broke ranks and ran, still managing to cover the scientists as they headed for a room out the back.

"Ronon, follow them," Sheppard called out, before pointing to a group of marines appearing from behind another stack of crates. "Two of you go with him, while you two help the wounded.

The marines went after the scientists as quickly as possible, giving chase and soon disappearing into the same room. The two he had marked went to aid their fellow soldiers while Sheppard turned to the ones who had been with him. "We're checking out the rest of this place."

They moved towards the corridor which Ronon had appeared through, guns up, moving carefully. The place seemed deserted; Sheppard knew from keeping tabs on his radio that Ronon and co had chased the scientists and men outside beyond the warehouses. But they had extra men waiting there, or there would be. Ellis was keeping an eye on them from space, and would make sure they didn't escape.

He hoped.

But there were still things they could learn from this place, and he wasn't about to waste time. Besides, he wanted to get back to Atlantis as soon as he could.

A sudden clatter made him turn to face a closed door, and he shared a look with the two marines who were with him. The noise came again, or another noise did at least, and Sheppard realized there was someone in there.

He tried the handle and found it locked. He shared another look with the marines, who held their P90s up, ready. He nodded, no words needed, and aimed at the handle.

A single shot blew it off. Taking a deep breath, Sheppard kicked at the door and it slammed open.

And something rushed out.

Faster than humanly possible, a man, breath growling, ploughed into Sheppard, sending him crashing into the wall hard enough to wind him. The gun dropped from his hand and he slid to the ground as the rapid fire of P90s filled the corridor.

They didn't seem to do anything to the man though, if they hit at all. Sheppard's head cleared slowly, and he looked up to see it take down one of the marines with a single swing of a rippling hand. The other marine didn't last much longer and than the man was taking off down the corridor, to where they couldn't hide it from the public.

Groaning slightly, Sheppard grabbed his gun, climbed to his feet and took off after it, not even stopping to check on the unconscious – again, he hoped – marines. Still, he didn't forget about them completely.

"Ronon, I found what has to be another hybrid, only more advanced," he spoke over the radio. "I'm in pursuit down the corridor you came up. It took out the two marines I was with. I need someone to check on them."

"Copied, Sheppard," came back Ronon's deep reply. "We managed to get a scientist, but the rest escaped."

"One's better than none," he allowed, as he banged through a door into the fading daylight. "Just get someone to watch them and follow me as soon as possible."

He could see the hybrid ahead. It was still human, basically. But it was far stronger, more agile.

But not faster, for which Sheppard was thankful. His legs pounded after it, unaware they were taking the same route as Private Merton had done the night before. He kept his gun out, wondering how many shots he had left. And how many it would take to kill the hybrid.

The creature leapt onto the concrete, and Sheppard was barely twenty feet after it. He didn't want to kill it, if he could help it. Maybe it would just…

No, he was going to have to kill it.

He paused for a moment, raising his gun, before firing. The shot sounded loud in the dusk air, and his bullet hit the thing in the back. It stumbled, slightly, but besides that initial stagger, it just kept on running.

Sheppard swore and took chase once more, unable to get another shot off before it had disappeared between two stacks of crates. He followed where he had last seen it, spotted it again as it turned left and disappeared into another warehouse.

Swearing again, Sheppard followed, slowing as he reached the doors it had gone through. He wasn't about to rush blindly into a space he didn't know against a foe he had little hope of beating.

He eased the door open, wondering where his backup was, and wished he had a flashlight in the dark of the abandoned warehouse.

The smell left something to be desired as well. He scrunched up his nose and looked around, eyes quickly becoming used to the darkness. He checked the area close to the door, and, upon finding nothing, scanned the walls, making sure there was no where the thing could.

But the hybrid was nowhere to be seen.

He took a step forward, cautious and careful, eyes scanning every inch of the warehouse. It was only small, he should have been able to see it.

A small groan from the centre made his gun raise, and he aimed at the lump on the floor that slowly materialised into the hybrid he had been chasing.

It rolled over as he began walking towards it, gun never leaving it's chest. But it rocked slightly, and then its eyes closed, and it gave a shudder. And then, he couldn't be sure, but he thought it… died.

Frowning, he moved closer. It wasn't moving. It wasn't breathing. He guessed he should check, and slowly knelt beside it, body tense. It still didn't move. And he didn't think it would have the intelligence anymore to set this up as a trap.

He reached out to check for a pulse, and then dropped his head as his fingers came across nothing. It really was dead.

He tapped his radio. "This is Sheppard. The hybrid is dead," he told anyone who was listening.

"We're almost there," Ronon told him. "The scientist wasn't being very cooperative. Are you sure?"

Sheppard nodded at no one. "Yeah, I'm sure. It hasn't got a pulse, and it isn't…"

He trailed off as he heard a noise, turning slightly as a shape ran by a window. Then he had a nasty thought. What if there were more than one of these things?

"Sheppard?"

"Just a moment, Ronon," he whispered. "Colonel Ellis, how many life signs around the warehouse I'm in?"

The colonel aboard the _Apollo_ got back to him instantly. "Four, Sheppard. Two where you entered and another two at the back. Do you want me to beam you out?"

A door banged open and Sheppard jumped to his feet to aim his weapon at the entering people. He couldn't make out their faces with the light in his eyes, but he had a feeling they weren't hybrids.

"Too late, Colonel," he whispered as he heard the door behind him crash open. "They're cops."

"We'll be there in a minute, Sheppard," Ronon promised

"On the ground, Sheppard," one of the figures shouted suddenly, and the pilot groaned, recognising the voice instantly.

"Agent Gibbs, you're not meant to be following up on this case," he reminded the man, lowering his weapon. It wasn't much good anyway. There were four of them around him, all with guns aimed at his body.

"Good thing we did," one of the ones behind him said. DiNozzo, he thought. "We came here just in time to hear you kill this man."

Sheppard laughed. "I didn't kill him," he told them. "And you really should leave now."

"On the ground," the woman told him, motioning with her gun. Sighing, Sheppard dropped to his knees, letting his gun dangle from his finger by the trigger guard. Ronon spoke in his ear again.

"We're almost there, Sheppard," the Satedan told him, and Sheppard realized he had to stop them before he had his radio taken away.

"Negative, Ronon," he told them, earning a few odd looks by the two in front of him, just as the gun was taken from his hand. "Give General O'Neill a call. I'll be fine."

"Sheppard -."

The pilot cut him off as he someone pushed him down and cuffed his hands behind his back. "Colonel Ellis, get them all out of here."

"Copied, Sheppard. We'll get someone to NCIS asap."

He couldn't reply as someone ripped the transmitter from around his neck before dragging him up. He looked Agent Gibbs in the eye as he regained his height. "You're making a big mistake," he warned them as the man holding his arms pushed him forward while the woman checked on the hybrid.

She shook her head. "He's dead, Gibbs."

Sheppard tried to grab the agent's attention. "I didn't kill him. And you were meant to forget this case. You really should have forgotten about it."

Gibbs looked at him as he knelt by the corpse. But he didn't respond to Sheppard. "Get him back to NCIS," he told DiNozzo. He stood up and finally looked the pilot in the eye. "Something's going on here. And I intend to find out what."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Sorry, I'm giving forewarning, there won't be any post tomorrow, I'm going to the show, and won't be back until really late... so, sorry!

On another note, thanks again to everyone who reviewed! You're going to give me a big head with all the wonderful comments, but thank you so much!

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Chapter 4:

DiNozzo watched through the one-way glass as Sheppard sat back in his chair, looking bored out of his brains. Ziva sat in there with him, staring daggers at the supposed pilot. Surprisingly it wasn't doing anything.

The door opened and McGee entered the viewing room, taking a quick look at their arrested pilot. "Has he said anything?"

DiNozzo shook his head. "Nothing. Hasn't even asked to make a call. He and Ziva have just… sat there."

McGee came to stand next to him. And quickly winced. "Wow, she looks pissed."

DiNozzo chuckled. "Yeah, her whole ninja stare of death thing isn't working."

He would have gone on but at that moment Gibbs entered the interview room, and both agents behind the glass fell silent. Sheppard looked up, sighed and sat forward, waiting until the older investigator had taken his seat.

"I thought you were just going to ignore me forever," he claimed. "I gotta admit, my feelings were getting a little hurt."

Gibbs looked at him. "Well, as long as it was just your feelings."

Sheppard chuckled and leaned back again. "This is a huge mistake," he began. Gibbs interrupted him before he could go on.

"Yeah, so you've told us. Mind telling us why, though."

The pilot grinned. "Well I would… but there's this whole matter of national security. I could really get my ass kicked for telling you anything."

"You could get your ass kicked for not, once I'm done," Gibbs told him, and Sheppard laughed again.

"Please. I'm not going to be here for long. And I think you know that. Otherwise you wouldn't have had Ms David here try to soften me up." He looked at her and shrugged. "Sorry. Not that the whole staring thing wasn't working, but Ronon does the same thing. And inside he's really just a huge teddy bear."

Ziva cocked her head. "I, on the other hand, have insides quite similar to my outsides," she informed him.

To all their surprise, he smiled charmingly. "Well, then, I've got nothing to worry about."

He turned to Gibbs. "I'm not going to tell you anything," he told the agent. "You can keep me here as long as you're allowed, but my lips will be sealed."

In response Gibbs opened the file he had brought with him. It was everything McGee had found on the imposing team before Ziva had narrowed down the search grid as much as she could.

"You shot a man in the back," Gibbs reminded the pilot. "We all heard the shot, and I'm sure when our medical examiner autopsies the body, forensics will match the bullet in him with your weapon."

"True," Sheppard confirmed, pointing for emphasis. "But it won't have been what killed him. I shot him before he got anywhere near that warehouse. He stumbled, but that was about it. I went inside, he was already on the floor, and he was dead."

"You shot him in the back and he kept on running?" Ziva asked with some amusement. "I find that hard to believe."

Sheppard shrugged. "Believe what you want."

"So what happened to the rest of your team?" Gibbs asked, moving on to what else he wanted to know. "And any prisoners you took?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

Gibbs made a noise in the back of his throat, and Sheppard stared at him. Then he smiled and pointed at the greying agent, leaning forward on his elbows. "You know, I bet inside you're a great big teddy bear too."

The room went icy cold, and behind the viewing glass, DiNozzo winced. Gibbs laid his hands flat on the table and looked away. McGee had the feeling it was because if he looked at the smug pilot, he would do something he would regret.

Ziva covered for him. "Why were you at those warehouses?"

"Same as you. Looking for Merton's murderers." He cocked his head. "Those copies your agent made while we were upstairs must have been really extensive."

Gibbs looked up. "How did your people get out without my people seeing them?" he demanded again. He was determined to get an answer.

Sheppard shrugged. "They're just good like that."

"Why did you tell them to leave?" Gibbs asked. "Not that I'm surprised, given your record as self-sacrificing, never leave a man behind hero."

For the first time, Sheppard went a little stiff, and he looked down at the file on the table. Then he chuckled, and looked down. "I should have known you'd check up on us."

"Well, you, anyway," Gibbs told him. "And we eventually found Dr McKay. Though the other two are still strangers to us. Why is that? What do you do?"

Sheppard shook his head and looked up. "That is so classified you'd need to be in another galaxy to even know how classified it is," he told them with a smirk.

"Come on," Gibbs whispered, leaning forward. "You can tell me. It's only us and the recorder."

Sheppard leaned forward as well. But whatever he had been about to say was cut off as the door to the interview room opened. Once again DiNozzo cringed as Director Shepard entered the room. You never interrupted Gibbs' interviews. Never.

The Director however, already looked a little shaken, as she closed the door behind her and looked at the colonel. "This interview is over," she told Gibbs, looking back at her agent. "We are to let Colonel Sheppard go."

Sheppard smirked again and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. Gibbs glared at him before standing up and looking the Director in the eye. "What?" he demanded. "Why?"

"The boss just called," Sheppard told them both, clearly enjoying this. Gibbs looked at him and then up at Director Shepard.

"How did SecNav even know we had arrested him?" Gibbs demanded, his confusion growing as the Director shook her head.

"No. Not SecNav. The President. Of the United States."

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"You must have some connections."

Sheppard looked across at DiNozzo as they walked back to the office space Gibbs' team occupied. The older agent had disappeared once the pilot had been released, undoubtedly annoyed. Sheppard almost felt sorry for him.

"Not me. The general who sent me here to take on this case." Sheppard shrugged. "There aren't really many people who would do this for me in the air force."

"I know. I've read your file." DiNozzo glanced at him as they entered the main office. "But obviously you've got the ear of people who count."

"Oh thank God."

Sheppard looked up, a little surprised to see McKay, Teyla and Ronon waiting for him, watched carefully by the other three NCIS agents and Director Shepard. His team mates stepped forward as they spotted him, and he grinned.

"So you do care, McKay," Sheppard said, nodding at the other two. McKay sent him a disparaging look before holding out a phone.

"General O'Neill wants to speak to you."

Sheppard looked at the phone before taking it, and walking away slightly. "General, good to hear from you sir. Glad you got my message."

He paused and then looked behind him at the others before turning away. "You know me, sir. It's in my nature to be a nuisance." Another pause. "Yes sir, thank you."

Wondering what they were talking about, McKay tried to edge closer, before a stare from Ronon stopped him still.

"Really, sir?" Again he looked behind him. "Yes they have. Can't really blame them though." Another pause. "Exactly how much is enough." He cringed a little. "Right, sir, use my head… Ah, no sir, no mention of that. Got it."

He turned to face the group, nodding to the person on the other end of the line. "Yes sir. And thanks again."

He hung up, snapping the phone shut and nodding at Gibbs where he sat behind his desk. "I've been authorised to bring you in on the investigation."

"You have?"

Sheppard frowned at McKay, not sure he should do the same for the Director, even though she had asked as well. "Yes, McKay, I have."

"Well, how much -."

Sheppard stopped him with a glare. "Just let me do the talking, McKay." He looked around as if noticing all the other agents. "Is there somewhere we could talk in private?" he asked.

The Director nodded. "We can use a conference room. Follow me."

The two teams did as ordered, following in silence as they went to a room near the back and took seats on opposite sides of the long table. Sheppard remained standing, hands in his pockets, obviously thinking about what to say.

"About two months ago, some material was stolen from a government lab. We believe one of the scientists who quit around the same time, a Dr George Ballon, stole this material and recently became involved with a private company who have set about experimenting with this material on people."

"The drug found in Private Merton's body?" Ziva asked, to make sure. Sheppard nodded.

"We think it's an experiment designed to make a stronger, faster soldier," he told them. "It's also something we've encountered in the area where we work."

"And where would that would be?" Gibbs demanded, leaning back in is chair. Sheppard smiled grimly at him.

"Classified," he replied. "You have to understand, I'm only allowed to tell you things pertinent to the case. Anything else remains strictly top secret." He sighed. "The unidentifiable DNA your forensic expert found in the drug belonged to a creature found in the area where we work. A very rare insect." He subconsciously rubbed his neck. "A very nasty insect, that has a bite like hell. With the DNA of this bug, as well as the other chemicals used, it creates one hell of a soldier. Strong, able to heal fast, quick, but compliant, to a degree. Easy to control, but once you let them loose… they're hard to kill, and hard to stop making them kill."

"And you've encountered this where you're stationed?" DiNozzo asked, thinking it sounded like something out of a horror movie or a weird sci-fi show.

Sheppard nodded grimly. "A local… ah, tribe leader, recently began experimenting with it. It's caused us a lot of pain." He put a hand to forestall the question that began coming out of Gibbs' mouth. "Look I can't tell you anymore than that. The important thing is that now someone, a company here, is obviously experimenting with it. Only it's not going so well. Hopefully the scientist my people arrested will be able to tell us more."

"So you found the right warehouse?" Gibbs asked, and Sheppard nodded.

"We did. And we raided it, only most people were gone. Once Merton escaped, they weren't going to stick around. I'm surprised it took them that long to clear out."

"So it was a large experiment," Gibbs deduced. "They must have had a lot of equipment, a lot of people…"

Sheppard nodded. "We think they've got a well connected financial backer. And hopefully we'll be able to crack this scientist and he can tell us where to look next. Because I don't think they're going to stop because of two failed experiments." He turned to his team. "McKay, have you got a radio on you?"

The scientist pulled the wig out of his own ear and handed it to Sheppard, who took it with a small look of disgust before planting it in his ear. "Colonel Ellis, this is Sheppard. Can you get the prisoner to NCIS headquarters? Thanks."

He chucked the radio back to McKay, ignoring the looks from NCIS at what resources the mysterious team had their hands on. "He'll be here in five minutes."

Gibbs didn't bother asking how they were going to get someone here in that short amount of time. "In the meantime," he spoke up. "There's other things we can be looking at. Just because he's a scientist, doesn't mean he has the answers."

John nodded and turned to his team. "Did you find anything on that woman?" he asked McKay. Teyla answered instead.

"We found her," the Athosian confirmed. "Monica Sparatas. She lives in an… apartment building in the centre of town."

Sheppard really hoped no one had noticed her stumble over the concept of an apartment building. He didn't blame her though. Hell, seeing an Earth city for the first time, and having to pretend like it was nothing could not have been easy. At least Ronon had been to Earth a few more times.

"One of yours, one of mine?" Gibbs suggested, and John nodded, bringing himself out of his thoughts. The agent turned to the woman sitting next to him.

"Ziva, off you go."

"Teyla," John said, nodding at her. She rose, taking the address as Rodney hastily scribbled it down and followed the Mossad agent out the door.

Sheppard watched them go with a little uncertainty. He knew Teyla would be all right, but it didn't stop him from worrying. Not about Teyla, or anything happening to her – she could more than handle herself – but John knew Mossad agents were innately curious. And Ziva David was a member of Gibbs' team. Who knew what questions she would ask.

But he couldn't dwell on it. He turned back to the table. "I'm guessing your examiner's already started on the body?" he asked Gibbs. Director Shepard nodded.

"I had Dr Mallard start as soon as you were both brought in."

Of course she had. She was still pissed about being left in the dark. Well, he guessed he would be too, if someone had taken over something in Atlantis. Hell, he had killed 60 Genii soldiers when they had tried. She had the right to a little anger.

"Colonel Ellis will send the data we gathered from the raid, as well," Sheppard told Gibbs. "We'll be able to search through it and gather a lot of information

McKay suddenly spoke up. "It's not much though. We only got a few computers that hadn't been wiped. Most of it is medical journals, entries about the experiments, plans for future ones, that kind of thing. Not much about who's behind this or where they're going next. I don't know how much I'm going to be able to get from them."

Sheppard glared down at him. "This isn't your usual impossible heroics, is it, McKay? Because I'm not really in the mood for them."

The scientist glared back at him. "When are you ever in the mood for them?" he demanded, before sighing. "It's going to take me a while, that's all."

McGee sat forward. "I can help you with that. Me and Abby. If there's no physical evidence."

Sheppard went to agree but Rodney's ego stopped him. "Excuse me? Help? Me? I'm a genius, kid. And that's not just self-proclaimed. I've-."

"McKay!" Sheppard cried before the man could tell, in great detail, exactly what he had and had not accomplished. "A simple yes is all you need. We're working together now, so just let the guy help."

Sheppard checked his watch, ignoring the look shared between Gibbs and the Director at the chaos. "The prisoner should be here by now. So unless we've got anything left to discuss…"

He left it open, but apparently the NCIS agents had run out of things they wanted to ask. Or at least, things they wanted to ask that they thought they would get an answer for. Gibbs and the Director shared another look and stood, joined moments later by the other two NCIS agents. They walked out the door, and, Gibbs, being the last one out of the room, spared them a look before shutting the door.

"Why are we sharing the case with them?" Ronon asked immediately. Sheppard shrugged.

"Because they were a pain in the ass when we weren't. Besides, they're good at what they do," he told them. "Just watch what you say, McKay. They still don't know we're from a base in another galaxy. And they're not about to. Which is why we're doing this here and not in the _Apollo._ Just try and be cautious."

McKay looked shattered. "Why are you looking at me? Ronon's the one from another planet!"

"Yeah, but Ronon's ego is squarely where it should be. Yours seems to be off in la la land where it could say anything because it doesn't know how much trouble you'll be in if these agents start asking questions."

With McKay looking appropriately chastised, Sheppard led his team out into the main office, hoping Teyla was having more luck than he was at keeping mouths shut.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Again, sorry about last night. Show was awesome, the essay I had to write after it not so much, not when you get home at 9:30 at night and have to write 1500 words... which I have to do again... such is life!

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Chapter 5:

The agency car screeched to a halt outside the tall building and in the passenger seat, Teyla looked up at the skyscrapers, trying to keep her awe in check. She was supposed to be a person from Earth. It was just hard when there were building tops where Wraith usually appeared from. Even the heights and towers of Atlantis had not prepared her for city.

She turned back to find Ziva looking at her looking at her. For a moment Teyla panicked that she had let something slip with her body language, but the agent just cocked her head and smiled.

"Usually people are a little… overcome by my driving."

It was the first words they had spoken since introducing themselves to each other. Ziva David meet Teyla Emmagan. And then total silence.

Teyla though, was good at meeting new people. As leader of her people, she had to be. So she smiled, attempting to break the ice.

"Wait until you have driven with Dr McKay," she told the government agent. Though by drive she actually meant fly an alien spaceship mostly with his mind. "Then we can speak."

Ziva chuckled as she got out of the driver's seat. Teyla followed, setting her foot on the path out the front of the Monica Sparatas' apartment building. She looked up and up… And this time it couldn't be helped. Ziva noticed. She was too good not to.

"Not used to the big city?" she asked gently. Teyla looked at her and smiled.

"Not quite yet," Teyla admitted, calm in the knowledge that of all the possible places Ziva was trying to think of as their secret base, the Pegasus Galaxy was unlikely to make the list.

They walked towards the door, and Ziva looked at her with some curiosity. "So are you native to the area where this base is?" she asked.

Knowing the woman was… how had John put it? Fishing, that was it. Knowing the woman was fishing, Teyla just smiled. "You could say that. I was contracted to help out."

The Athosian woman had the feeling Ziva was trying to place her accent. Well, she would be failing miserably, and would just have to make do with what information John had told Teyla to supply should she be asked questions. Yes, she was native to the area. Yes, she was a civilian contractor. No, she was not about to divulge exactly where that was.

They walked into the lobby, and Ziva walked straight past reception like she owned the place. Teyla followed, sure she looked out of place, especially in these strange Earth clothes. But there wasn't much she could do about that and so tried to look confident.

They made it to the elevator without being stopped and Ziva pressed the button for the eleventh floor. "So," the Mossad agent began, glancing at her companion. "Can you tell me anything of what you do? I am very curious."

Teyla bet she was. Shifting on her feet and crossing her arms, the Athosian guessed she could. "I help the base make contact with other locals who would be willing to help out. Inform them of who will not help. Who should not be trusted. That sort of thing."

"Reconnaissance," Ziva surmised with a nod. "So I assume you can help yourself in a fight."

Teyla smiled softly. "I can hold my own," she allowed. "Now Ronon, he is the fighter." Not that she hadn't beaten him before though.

The elevator stopped and dinged, announcing their arrival at the eleventh floor. As one they stepped out, and Teyla wished she could either get rid of, or get used to, these heels. They were becoming uncomfortable.

"Ronon is which one?" Ziva asked, though she was pretty sure she knew which one. "The taller man, I'm guessing?"

They started searching the doors for room 1115, but they continued their conversation. "Yes, the tall one. The other I believe you already found in your computers."

There was a hint of accusation in her voice, but before Ziva could even choose to ignore or confront it, they arrived at Monica Sparatas' room. The agent raised her hand to knock before Teyla suddenly grabbed it, her face deadly serious.

"What is it?" Ziva asked as Teyla leaned her head in to listen through the door. Then she shook her head.

"Something is not right," she whispered. A second later she was proved right.

A crash of something breaking, closely followed by a gunshot and a scream, came from the room, and Ziva reacted quickly.

She took one step back, pulling her weapon free, nodding at Teyla. Though she didn't know exactly what that meant, the Athosian got the idea and put a hand on the handle, twisting to see if it would open.

It did, and she pushed it open. Hard. The chain holding it locked broke easily, and Ziva hurried in, gun raised, closely followed by Teyla, who wished she had thought to ask John for a weapon.

The corridor they were in was short, and Ziva quickly moved into the main room, gun up, shouting. "NCIS, get down on the ground!"

Teyla followed her in, assessing the situation quickly. A woman she recognised as Monica Sparatas lay on the ground, bleeding from her shoulder, already unconscious and pale. Two men stood over her, both holding their own guns. As Teyla entered, they raised the weapons to point at the two women.

Teyla reacted quickly, ducking to the side and definitely wishing she had thought to ask for a weapon. Nevertheless she picked up one of the strange vases she found on a nearby table and threw it at the nearest man.

He gave a yelp as the ceramic crashed into him before he even knew what was happening, and the two women took the moment of surprise and used it to their advantage. Not wanting to kill one of two men attempting murder before they could be brought to justice, Ziva rushed the one looking to see if his friend was fine, while Teyla attacked the one she had thrown the vase at, jumping up on the small coffee table and kicking him hard in the head with her boot before he even had a chance to look back and aim his 9mm. She continued the spin and brought her other leg up to finish him off with another kick, with more power and more heel.

The man grunted, and fell immediately to the ground, bleeding from one eyebrow. Checking on her partner, and finding Ziva just as finished with her opponent, Teyla rushed for Monica, checking on her pulse immediately.

"She is alive," Teyla told Ziva as the woman knelt beside them, her cell phone already out and dialling 911. "But her pulse is very fast."

Ziva nodded, ordering an ambulance just as the first person, the building's guard stuck his head in the room.

Teyla shrugged out of her jacket and pressed it against the wound, wishing now for a TAC vest so she could use field bandages instead of this nice material the SGC had provided for her. Ziva nodded and went to deal with the guard, before checking and cuffing the two assailants before they could come around.

As the paramedics arrived and took over, Ziva whipped out her phone again, dialling a number. The other agent picked up almost immediately, and Teyla heard one side of the conversation.

"We got to Monica Sparatas' place to find her under attack. She's been shot, but she's alive. They're taking her to hospital, and we'll follow. We'll call you when we have news."

There was a pause, and then Ziva nodded. "Okay. We'll stay to make sure no one else makes an attempt." Another pause. "I'm sure we can handle it."

She snapped the phone shut and watched the paramedics moving Monica from the room, laid out on a gurney, an oxygen mask over her face. Teyla had just finished speaking to them and came over.

"You know," Ziva began. "If that was handling yourself, I cannot wait to see what this Ronon can do."

Teyla smiled. "I found out which hospital they are taking Monica to. I assume we are to follow and remain with her?"

Ziva nodded. "As soon as some more agents get here, we will be at that hospital."

* * *

DiNozzo walked back into the observation room, coffee in hand, shutting the door gently to avoid noise. Not that the two men had started the interview yet. In fact, they weren't even in the room yet. Tony had the feeling they were off planning some kind of mental torture somewhere. Now that they were working together, the two team leaders seemed to be having a malicious kind of fun. And not just with each other.

McGee had taken Sheppard's own geek down to Abby's lab to get started on the computers the other team had retrieved from the raided warehouse. Which had left him with the last of Sheppard's team members.

The man had introduced himself as Ronon Dex. And hadn't said anything else. He just stared through the glass at the scientist he had caught in the warehouse. And had the scientist been aware, DiNozzo was sure he would be wetting himself.

Tony rejoined Ronon at the window, trying to think of a good way to break the ice. And there was a lot of it. The man was imposing. He had that air of danger that was no skin thin thing. If he made a threat, he would follow through on it. He wasn't afraid of violence, either of using it or it being used against him. Tony had seen plenty of men like it in his time as a cop.

"So, what do you do with Sheppard?" he asked, trying to find anything to dispel his own discomfort. He just couldn't stand long silences.

Though on second thought, that probably wasn't the best way to kick off their conversation. Ronon just stared at him for a moment, then grunted, "Classified."

DiNozzo sighed. "Okay. Where you from?"

"Classified."

The NCIS agent frowned. "I ask you your shoe size, that going to be classified too?"

"Uh huh."

Tony turned to look at him, not even flinching when Ronon stared down at him. Now that was something Tony wasn't used to. He was used to being the tallest one in the room.

"Okay then… favourite movie?"

It was DiNozzo's favourite ice breaker. If nothing else worked, it was good for a few reasons. Everyone he knew watched movies. Everyone could find something they liked. And in this case, it was hardly likely to be classified

Ronon frowned down at him for a moment, and for that moment, DiNozzo's faith in his all time favourite ice breaker was shaken. And then the taller man turned back around to face the window.

"Jaws."

"Ah." DiNozzo turned back to the window himself. He should have guessed. "Let me guess. All that blood and guts?"

Ronon shook his long dreadlocks. "Nope. That oxygen tank explosion. Makes for a good ice breaker."

Tony frowned, confused, and looked up. "What, talking about that scene?"

Ronon grinned at him. "Uh, not quite." Before Tony could respond to that, he nodded at the scientist. "Any clue why they haven't gone in yet?"

Tony shrugged. "Could be any number of reasons. Gibbs likes making them squirm. Maybe they're hashing out a master plan. How does Sheppard usually handle these?"

"Classified."

* * *

McKay heard the music before he got within feet of the forensics lab. Wondering what sort of forensic expert listened to death metal turned up to full volume, he glanced at McGee and frowned. The young probie just grinned, shifting the three laptops he held in his arms and led the rest of the way into the lab.

McKay hefted his one laptop and followed, a little curious now. He was only a few feet from the door when McGee entered and the music turned down. "McGee!" came the high voice of a young woman. "You brought me my evidence back, did you? I couldn't believe it when…"

She trailed off as McKay entered, and proceeded to glare at him. McKay stared back, though his was less voluntarily. He was a little shocked by the black haired, tattooed, gothic woman who must have been the forensic expert. Considering she was the only one in the lab, she had to be.

"What's he doing here?" the woman asked in a hushed whisper. McGee just sighed and put down the laptops he was carrying.

"We're working together now. Didn't someone tell you?"

"Well, yeah, but I didn't think you'd bring one down _here_."

McKay got tired of that real quick. "One of them is right here," he snapped, walking forward and dumping the laptop with the others. "And I didn't bring your evidence back."

The woman glared a bit at the jibe, and took one step towards him, pointing with a lot of tension. "You better be nice to me," she warned, ignoring McKay's single eyebrow raise. "I'm one of the few people on Earth who could kill you and leave _no_ evidence."

Rodney assessed her quickly, something he had become more adept at doing since joining the Atlantis expedition. Then he smirked. "Please. I was building nuclear weapons in the sixth grade. But like you, I would only ever use my powers for good."

The woman glared at him a moment later before daring to grin mischievously for a moment. "Doesn't mean I won't be tempted," she told him, before sticking out a gloved hand. "Abby Sciuto."

He took it and let her shake it. "Dr Rodney McKay."

She turned around and began looking at the computers. "From your warehouse raid?" she asked, grabbing a random one and opening it, powering it up. McKay nodded.

"Yeah. I had a quick look but the information's been wiped. I didn't have a chance to recover it yet." McKay leaned over her shoulder, the both of them earning a worried look from McGee. Which the both of them promptly ignored.

Abby smirked at him. "Here, wiped data is out speciality," she told him. "Just give us a few minutes, and we'll see what we have."

* * *

Sheppard followed Gibbs into the morgue, prepared, like the NCIS agent, to get every piece of information they could before moving in to interview the scientist they had caught. At least now they had a name for him. Geoffrey Monroe, genetics specialist from England, who was meant to be in the country on an extended holiday. It was a good thing England was a part of the International Committee with all things Atlantis, or they might have actually had a problem.

The morgue was as sterile as he had expected. What he hadn't expected was the corpse of their latest experiment hybrid lying on the table, still being sewn back up by the kid he guessed was some kind of apprentice or assistant.

The young man looked up as they entered, his gaze becoming nervous as it landed on Gibbs, and he paused, needle in hand, to stand up. "Agent Gibbs, hi." His gaze shifted to Sheppard. "Oh, you must be the air force guy. Jimmy Palmer." And he held out a gloved hand.

Sheppard looked at it with mild disgust. "I am not touching that if it's been in there," he warned the kid, pointing at the body. Palmer seemed to realize that too, going still, and then retracting his hand fast.

"Uh, Dr Mallard is -."

A voice cut him off. "Is here. Morning, Jethro."

John turned with Gibbs towards the voice, taking his hands off his hips to greet the ageing medical examiner as he entered the main section of the morgue. He was a little surprised to realize it was morning. Very early morning. Wow, where had the time gone?

He shook it off, still getting used to Earth's time zone, let alone DC's, and waited for Gibbs to do whatever it was that Gibbs did. He had a feeling these people would respond better to that.

"What have you got, Ducky?"

But Sheppard couldn't help but speak up at that. "I'm sorry. Ducky?"

The examiner chuckled and walked over to him, offering his own – ungloved and highly sanitised – hand. "Yes, a nickname I picked up in my youth," the man told him as they shook hands. "It's what everyone around here calls me."

"John Sheppard," the pilot greeted. "The 'air force guy'."

Ducky chuckled again. "Yes, I know. You're the talk of the town, Colonel."

Sheppard glanced at Gibbs hard stare. "I bet I am," he muttered, following Ducky over to the table where Palmer was back to sewing it up.

"What do I have?" the examiner asked, leaning over the body. "One male, twenty-seven years old. Once again being experimented on. Similar to Private Merton. His body was mutating. Bones changing, internal organs failing. One thing I did notice different on this one though. Shrinking, in the brain, of the areas that control… I guess you could call it your conscience. Whoever he was, he was not a healthy, or a happy man when he died."

"And how did he die?" Gibbs asked, glancing back at Sheppard, who met the stare easily. Of course. The whole shooting thing.

"I know what you're thinking," Ducky told him. Not that it would be hard, with the staring match going on. "But the bullet in his back did not kill him. And neither did the other bullets."

"Other bullets?" Gibbs and Sheppard asked simultaneously, much to the apparent delight of Ducky.

The man nodded. "Yes. He had another five in his body. Which was strange, considering he had no other entry wounds. I sent them up to Abby for testing, of course, along with bloods to see about this… regeneration."

Sheppard nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense." At their looks, he shrugged. "Well, it makes sense to me. Back… home, the uh, the hybrids, the men this local was experimenting on, had regeneration abilities, just like the bug." Or at least, initially they had. Not that they'd been men either, just… bug-men

Gibbs shared a look with Ducky, and then glared back at the pilot. "What exactly do you people do wherever it is you do it?" the man demanded, and Sheppard scowled.

"I already told you, it's -."

"Classified. Right." Gibbs shook his head. "So how did he die, Ducky?"

"Heart attack," the man told them simply. "His body couldn't handle the stress of the drug in his system. And he had a lot more of it in his blood stream than Private Merton. My guess is that they're experimenting with various levels of it, seeing what it produces."

"Any idea who he was?" Sheppard asked, glancing at him hopefully.

Ducky shook his head. "I did send blood up to Abby, she may have an answer soon. But I do have a guess, as to who he was." He turned around and picked up a container, showing the two investigators. Sheppard got a quick look at the flash of silver and felt a small weight on his chest as his own dog tags seemed to press against it. "He was a marine, just like Private Merton. These identify him as Jason Packard. But Abby will be able to tell you for sure."

Sheppard shared a look with Gibbs, the man's eyes hard and brutal. "I think we should go talk to Monroe now."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah. I think you're right."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** To everyone who reviewed, sorry I haven't had a chance to reply! I just got in from work, and I'm kinda freaking out about this essay that's due tomorrow, so I figured I'd better concentrate on it. THANK YOU to everyone who did review, you guys are really rolling them in, and I'll relpy if I get the chance tonight!

So here's the next chapter, enjoy!

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Chapter 6:

The anxiety in the interview room went up two or three notches when Sheppard walked in, closely followed by Gibbs. Behind the glass, Ronon and Tony's mostly one-sided conversation fell silent, the two exchanging a look before turning to watch with anticipation.

Monroe, as tall as he was, seemed to shrink back into his seat as the two men took theirs in silence. Gibbs opened a folder while Sheppard stared at him, a cocky half-smile on his face.

Monroe looked between the two of them, as if summing up his opposition and not liking what he found. Then he turned to Sheppard, obviously thinking he would have more chance with the younger man. Behind the glass, Ronon knew better.

"I want my phone call," Monroe demanded, making a show of bravery.

"No."

Monroe licked his lips at Sheppard's tight response. "I have the right to a lawyer," he pointed out, and Sheppard's cocky grin grew.

"No, you don't."

Monroe flicked his gaze over to Gibbs, who was still looking at his folder, and then looked back at Sheppard. "When my government hears about this -."

John cut him off. "I spoke to them already. They're very… understanding. They said we could keep you here for as long as we liked."

The scientist paled, leaning back in his chair. "I know things," he warned, and obviously had more to say, except that Sheppard cut him off with a sinister chuckle.

"Yeah," Sheppard agreed. "And that's why all my answers were no." He leaned forward, resting on his elbows. "See, when you're involved in highly illegal experiments using stolen, top-secret material, all your options just kind of… fly out the window."

The scientist glanced at Gibbs, and jumped to find the agent staring at him. Sheppard continued as Gibbs held the geneticist's eyes.

"Lawyer? Gone. Trial? Gone. Judge? Gone. Deals? Gone. Big dark hole in the bottom of some government basement with next to no daylight, no visitors, no freedom and no luxuries like a toilet?" There was a pause. "No, wait, you _do_ get that."

Monroe inhaled sharply, before looking between the two of them, trying for anger. "What is this? I think you're missing the idea here. The whole good cop, bad cop routine, you're -."

John cut him off once again with a laugh, joined this time by Gibbs. "Good cop, bad cop?" the agent asked, sharing a look with the pilot.

"Not quite," Sheppard agreed. "More like, pissed pilot, _really_ pissed marine. See, you're killing our people, Monroe."

"You can't prove anything," the man denied, crossing his arms. "You can't prove that I was involved, just that I happened to be in the area when your thugs arrested me."

Gibbs shrugged, crossing his own arms. "That doesn't matter," he told the man.

"No trial, remember," John continued. "No lawyer, no impartiality, no need for proof."

"Just a big dark hole in the bottom of some government basement with next to no daylight, no visitors, no freedom and no luxuries like a toilet," Gibbs reinforced.

"Your word against ours," Sheppard confirmed. "And I know who my superiors will believe."

Monroe took a deep breath. "I know things," he reminded them. Gibbs smirked.

"That's the problem, remember."

"No, I know things that can help you," he told them. "I… If you cut me a deal, I'll tell you everything I know."

John leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly. "Well, it certainly wouldn't hurt you," he told the man. "What have you got?"

Monroe shook his head. "First I want promises. No charges. I want to go back to England, and I don't want it to be in a prison suit."

Gibbs and John shared a look. "That kinda depends on what you give us," the pilot informed him. "So. What do you have?"

Monroe swallowed, and then sighed, looking dejected. "I know where they were planning to set up next," he told them quietly, not meeting their eyes. "It's um… It's another warehouse. In the city this time. Some old meat plant or something. I can give you the address."

Gibbs smiled. "See, that wasn't so hard." He pushed a piece of paper over, and a pen, and Monroe sighed again, rubbing his eyes. "Let's have it then."

"You're going to need to protect me," the Englishman told them. "They'll come after me."

"Who are they?" Sheppard asked, thinking maybe he could do some of the IOA's work for them. Maybe then they would see he could do his job and stop butting in. "Got a name? A company?"

Monroe shook his head. "I was contacted by one man, and he's the only person I ever saw. Besides the other scientists, and the guards, anyway."

"Well, when you're done with the address, maybe you could spend some time naming those scientists and guards for us," Sheppard suggested, leaning forward. "Maybe then you won't get that dark hole."

Monroe flinched, before nodding, never raising his head. "I'll need a longer piece of paper," he told them. "As long as you protect me, that is."

John shrugged. "We'll do what we can." He grabbed the piece of paper before Gibbs could. "Take your time. Chances are we'll bust your friends in any case."

The two of them left the room, closing the door firmly behind them. Gibbs looked at Sheppard. "You knew I was a marine."

It wasn't an accusation, or a question, just a statement, and Sheppard grinned smugly at it. "You're not the only one who can do research," he told the man as Ronon and DiNozzo joined them. He waved the piece of paper. "Just let me make some calls, get us some back up, and then we can go bust us some scientists."

He turned around, telling Ronon – silently – to stay with the agents, before walking in the opposite direction, getting his phone out. He was already speaking as he turned the corner.

Gibbs eyed their tall, silent companion for a moment, and then set off for Abby's lab, to see what she knew.

He heard them before he saw them, heard the jittery computer talk of what sounded like a very excited scientist. And there was Abby's voice, just as animated.

Gibbs turned the corner to see the three of them – McGee, Abby and McKay – lined up on the bench, the probie looking annoyed and frustrated as the other two bounced off each other. But they all looked up as the three men entered, McKay still sucking on a Caf-Pow.

He let it go at a grunt of disgust from Ronon, sending the taller man a glare before dumping the empty carton on the table. "Hey, guys! Where's Sheppard?"

That was answered a second later. "Oh God, what did you feed him?"

John came to stand next to Gibbs, looking in horror at the tall cup in front of a guilty looking McKay and Abby. The forensics expert shrugged.

"It's only a Caf-Pow. Just a little caffeine."

Sheppard made a noise, looking at Rodney, whose leg was bouncing. "And how many of these Caf-Pows has he had?" he asked. _Please, no more than that one, please_.

"Uh, three," Abby supplied. "I didn't really think it would affect him this much."

"Sheppard, I'm fine," Rodney broke in, waving a hand. He sounded like he was drunk. Or like he had when Laura Cadman had been in his body. "These things are so good, we should get them back in, uh… back home. They're like coffee, but better."

Watching his friend, Sheppard didn't think so. "We'll talk about that later," John told him, a little worried. He pointed a stern finger at Abby. "No more. He's bad enough with coffee. He won't sleep for a week now."

Gibbs moved towards a sullen looking McGee. "What have you got?"

The three of them got down to business. "We managed to retrieve the data," the probie told them, tapping on the screen and pulling up a few documents. "Most of it was just journal entries, detailing how the experiment was going, plans for the future, things like that."

"Everything else is password protected," Abby told them. "That's what we're working on now, while McGee runs through what data we've managed to get to."

"How long you been at it?" Sheppard asked, glancing at McKay. The man shrugged while Abby answered.

"Just over fifteen minutes."

John's eyebrows rose. "Quarter of an hour? You're slipping McKay."

The man's jaw dropped, but he seemed too hyperactive to come up with a quick-witted response, leaving Gibbs to fill the silence.

"Anything on the marine we brought in earlier?" the agent asked, and Abby nodded.

"We got a hit a few minutes ago, but we all know how you don't like to be interrupted in an interview. Ducky was right. His name is Jason Packard, a lance corporal, or was. Again, no family to speak of. He's an only child, parents died a few years back. No girlfriend or any other relatives that we know of."

Gibbs nodded. "McGee, you get to work on finding out what you can about Packard. And while you're at it, call Quantico, get them to check on all men on leave off base, see if there are any more missing recently."

He turned to leave, and Sheppard hurried to catch up. "McKay, keep working on cracking those passwords," he ordered as he ran out of the room, Ronon hot on his heels. McGee wasn't far behind.

Alone, Abby glanced at McKay. "One more?" she asked, and the scientist grinned, knowing she was talking about Caf-Pows.

"Hell yes."

* * *

"There's a squad of marines meeting us at the warehouse," Sheppard told Gibbs as he slid into the passenger seat of the agency car. "Last time we went in, they weren't happy about it, shot two marines before they even knew who we were."

Gibbs turned the ignition on as Ronon jammed himself into the backseat beside DiNozzo, who was on the phone to the woman at the hospital with Teyla. The two of them didn't look happy about being relegated to the back seat, but neither team leader was about to hear their complaints.

Gibbs looked at him as he backed out of the park. "Well, this time we'll just have to surprise them a bit better," he answered smugly, and Sheppard chuckled.

"Good luck with that," he told the man. "If these people are half as good and financed as I think they are, we're going to have problems." He glanced sideways at the man as they pulled into the street. "Just be warned. I don't know how much of this warehouse you'll be allowed a peek at."

Gibbs' mouth thinned. "Yeah, I'm aware of that. Maybe if we catch these guys, your bosses will think again about letting us all the way in on this."

Sheppard shook his head. "I doubt that," he told the agent sincerely. "You really have no idea how big this is."

A part of Gibbs seemed to snap. "Yeah? Well, why don't you clue me in a little?" he demanded, swerving into the next lane to cut in front of the car that had been beside them.

"I would if I could," Sheppard told him, not showing any signs of panic as the driver sped and swerved over the road. "But you wouldn't believe me if I did tell you anyways."

"That's what they always say," Gibbs told him, only to be cut off by Sheppard laughing.

"True. But in this case, trust me, it's true. You wouldn't believe it."

"So, if one of these scientists accidentally lets loose about your big conspiracy, what do I do?" Gibbs asked, the look in his eyes telling the pilot that he was going to try.

Sheppard shook his head again. "Trust me, if they knew the truth, the bits of the truth you can't know, then they wouldn't have the balls to be doing these experiments." He shook his head again. "No, my guess is only one of these scientists knows exactly what they've got, and that's the one that stole the material when he left the government lab. And you won't be getting your hands on him."

It was a promise, and they all knew it. In the backseat, Ronon and DiNozzo shared a look, almost enjoying the war of words and wills.

Gibbs chuckled darkly. "Can't make any promises," he told Sheppard as they turned down a street. They were nearly at the warehouse now. "If I catch him, I'm questioning him."

"Any people we arrest here are going back to my own base of operations," Sheppard told him as the car suddenly screeched to halt. "And that is slightly out of your… jurisdiction."

The two men sat and stared at each other for a moment, and once again the two men in the back exchanged a look. Finally Gibbs cleared his throat. "We're here."

A little frustrated, Sheppard rolled his eyes and got out of the car, heading straight for the sergeant waiting by the nearby unmarked van. Gibbs followed moments later, not about to be left out of anything. And once again, Ronon and DiNozzo shared a knowing look before getting out of the car and heading over to the men.

"The warehouse is around the corner," the sergeant told them, pointing down a nearby street as a second marine fitted them all out with radios. "Colonel Ellis has already moved a number of my men into strategic positions around the warehouse, and they're ready go."

"They got into place without tipping the men inside off?" Gibbs demanded, and the sergeant stared at him.

"Of course, sir," the marine answered, a little confused. Gibbs next question seemed to help him out though.

"How?"

Sheppard growled in the back of throat. "They're just good like that," he answered, getting annoyed by the fishing. "Continue, Sergeant."

"Yes sir," he answered, sparing a look for the agent. "Like I said, a few teams are already in place, awaiting your order to head on in. I figured me and my team would stay around here to help you over to the two entrances you wanted in by."

Sheppard nodded, taking off his jacket before grabbing the bullet-proof vest one of the waiting marines handed him. He chucked his jacket into the back of the van. "Have any of your men spotted anything unusual?" he asked.

The sergeant shook his head. "No sir. But they haven't managed to get a good look. Colonel Ellis supplied us with, uh… schematics." He glanced at Gibbs again, and the agent scowled at realizing that they were being careful in front of him. "There's three rooms with people in them, they're mostly in the one furthest back, the biggest space, where my men are positioned. The other is the front office. The third is a garage, but it can only be accessed by the back room, no windows, no way but that door to get in and the roller door where there's a van parked."

Sheppard nodded. "If they have a third marine being tested on, he'll be in that room." He looked around at the others. "Ready to do this?"

They all nodded, except Gibbs. The man just tilted his head up. "I want DiNozzo with you," he demanded, and after a moment Sheppard nodded.

"Fine. You've got Ronon. Let's go."

He grabbed the offered M16 from a marine handing weapons out, not surprised when Ronon took a shotgun instead, the power and pace something he was used to with his own blaster. Gibbs and DiNozzo seemed content with their sidearms, and Sheppard wasn't about to push them on the matter.

Dividing into two teams, they took off down the street, splitting as they reached the corner. The sergeant who had been filling them in took Gibbs and Ronon around the front, while Sheppard, followed himself by DiNozzo, headed for the back of the building via a small alley, keeping pace easily with the corporal and his team.

They were at the targeted building within seconds, and Sheppard nodded at the men waiting at a door and beneath windows. He paused, listening intently for any noise, before popping up to take a look through a small window.

He ducked back down again quickly, satisfied that at least they weren't about to run in on anyone's private business. Those men inside were definitely scientists, and those men with guns were definitely guards.

He jogged over to the door, lifting the rifle up to his shoulder before tapping his radio. "All teams go!"

* * *

Back at NCIS headquarters, McKay typed furiously on the laptop, sure he was getting close to breaking the password. He had to admit, whoever had put the protections in place on this thing had done a good job. He had easily cracked the other files, but this one… this one was almost managing to be a pain in the ass.

But, he thought as he took a sip of Caf-Pow, he was close. He was very close. So close he could almost feel the barricade of code crumbling before his fingertips of fury.

"Aha!" he cried, making Abby and McGee jump at the sudden interruption into their own work. But Rodney ignored them, feeling confident and proud, even as his feelings of frustration died away with the victory.

And then a second later, as the files made themselves known to him, his face fell, his stomach jolted and his heart stopped. This was bad.

"Oh no."

And he dived for a phone, hopeful that he wasn't too late.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Okay, two things. THANK YOU for every review, I still haven't replied yet, but I only just got in from work, figured I'd post first, seeing as it's late. But just in case I don't get to you tonight, thank you so much.

On that note... there won't be a post tomorrow night. A, it's the AFL grandfinal, so I'll be, uh, busy all day. B, I'm going home basically straight after it, so I don't know what time I'll make it there, and besides, my family's internet is so slow I swear it goes backwards sometimes (it's going to kill me when I'm living there permanently over summer...), so... yeah. I'll still try and post every night after that, but sorry, no promises, cause if I do, the computer back home is likely to explode.

No, seriously.

**

* * *

**

Chapter 7:

Teyla had heard John and Rodney talk about hospitals before, about their smell and sterility, the organised chaos and the abundance of sick and half-sick people. But for all their talk and chatter, she had always pictured them as still being similar to the infirmary on Atlantis, or the one in the SGC.

She realized how wrong that assumption was the moment she stepped inside the tall, white building.

She didn't stop, and managed to retain her confident walk as she followed Ziva into administration. But she still couldn't help but stare at everything out of the corner of her eye. There were people everywhere, even reception was busy, and most of them appeared to be overcome with symptoms she could only assume were far worse than they looked, because none of her people acted so badly to such small things.

And once again she wondered, if it hadn't been for the Wraith, would her people have developed so.

She didn't for a second assume they were weaker because of their tendency to exaggerate. After all, she worked with Rodney, and the man, for all his many shortcomings, was as brave as they came. But as she followed Ziva from reception and through the halls to emergency, she couldn't help but think that maybe the Earthlings had become complacent in their safety.

Not that there weren't plenty of seriously injured or sick people around, and Teyla found that strange as well. The hospital was so busy, and she was starting to get an idea of just how populated this massive city was, let alone the planet. No wonder the Wraith were so intent on getting here.

In silence, she followed Ziva through to emergency, where the agent found a free nurse and asked after Monica Sparatas. That nurse led them to a doctor who was busy on the phone.

Seeing them, he hung the phone back on the hook, sighing as Ziva flashed her badge.

"I'm guessing you're here about Monica Sparatas," he told them tiredly. "I'm Doctor Hudson."

"You are the one looking after her?" Teyla asked, and Hudson nodded.

"Until they get a free spot in surgery, I'm your guy."

Ziva frowned. "So I am assuming her wound is not serious?" she half asked, looking around as if to find the woman.

"Serious enough to need surgery," Hudson told them. "But it's not life-threatening. We managed to slow the bleeding, and manage the pain, but she's not complaining much. I think she's just glad to b e alive."

Teyla's eyebrows rose in surprise. "So she is awake?" she asked, looking around herself now.

Hudson nodded. "Yeah, she woke up in the ambulance, or so I'm told. The paramedics said she was shocked to be waking up at all. She said she thought she was a dead woman the moment she opened the door."

Ziva nodded absent-mindedly. "We need to speak with her," she told him, making sure he knew there was an urgent need with her tone.

The doctor still baulked. "I don't know… she's been through a lot, and she still has to go into surgery -."

"Please," Teyla broke in. "The matter is very urgent. And we will be gentle. If you wish, you can even come in yourself, and make sure nothing goes wrong."

Hudson sighed and shook his head. "Fine. If it's important, I guess… But I am coming in. She's over here."

They followed the doctor over, Teyla ignoring Ziva's glances. Clearly the other woman had wanted to speak with Monica alone. But Teyla knew that would never have happened. If Hudson was anything like Keller was, or Carson, then he would never have allowed it.

Hudson pushed back the curtains, and the woman behind them jumped, her shaking hand going to her chest as if her heart had jumped with her. She seemed to struggle to calm down, forcing deep breaths, her face pale as she closed her eyes.

"Monica Sparatas?" Ziva questioned, true to Teyla's promise and keeping her voice soft.

The woman opened dark eyes, and nodded, her curly brown hair falling from her shoulders as her whole body shook. Ziva paused at the end of the bed, but Teyla moved to Monica's bedside, determined to be strong for her, if she needed it. And it looked like she did need it.

"My name is Officer David," Ziva continued, gesturing at her partner. "This is Teyla Emmagan. We just want to ask you a few questions."

"About the men who tried to kill me?" Monica asked in a small voice, looking down. And clearly trying to avoid the bigger issue.

"Amongst other things." Ziva tried to keep the dryness out of her voice. "Mostly about Private Zachary Merton."

The woman flinched, and she shook her head. "I don't know -."

"We have proof, Monica," Teyla told her, butting in. Gently. "Photographs of you leaving the motel the morning Private Merton disappeared. The motel manager described you as the one who… checked out for Private Merton."

Monica looked up, her eyes red. "They offered me money!" she blurted out, obviously distraught. "My mother… she's sick. She needs help, and we can't afford it. They came to me and said they would pay me to do one thing!"

"Which was?" Ziva asked.

"Drug that guy, that marine. So I did! It felt bad and horrible, and if my mother knew, she would probably kill me herself! But I did it, because I didn't want my mother to die. Only…"

She trailed off, lowering her head again, and Ziva exchanged a look with Teyla. Hudson remained a silent spectator, though his eyes were wide. He was probably wondering what was going on.

"Only what?" Ziva asked, her eyes hard. Was she responsible for the death of the second man in the morgue?

"They didn't pay me. They said they had a few other jobs for me first. I had to help them get to three other men."

Ziva's blood ran cold. Three more men subjected to what amounted to torture. "Who? Who else did you 'help them get to'?"

Monica swallowed audibly. "Um, two other marines. A… Oh God, what was his name?"

"You helped kidnap them and you don't know their names?" Ziva demanded coldly, earning a sharp look from both Teyla and the doctor. Monica's head shot up.

"I tried to forget their names! And their faces. I know what I did was wrong, and I won't ever forget it! As much as I try, I won't. I realized that, just before going to see Merton, realized I couldn't, not even for my mother. But… they wouldn't let me back out! They said they would kill my mother if I didn't help them. What was I supposed to do?"

Ziva refused to answer, but Teyla filled the gap. "Do you know the names of the three men?" she asked gently, and her voice seemed to calm Monica down slightly.

"Uh, yeah. Um, James… no, Jason Packard. Um, Ryan… Ryan Monash. They were both marines. I think the third guy was a pilot."

"But you don't know his name?" Ziva asked.

Monica shook his head, slowly. "No. Well… Usually they didn't tell me their names until they dropped me off at where I was supposed to pick them up. And I hadn't… I hadn't met this third guy yet. When those guys showed up, they said my services wouldn't be needed anymore, so they were going to kill me."

"Do you know anything about him?" Maybe they could find him and warn him before it was too late.

Eyeing Ziva, and then Teyla, Monica slowly nodded. "I overheard bits and pieces. When they were taking me to see the third marine. Um, he's an officer. He's someone pretty important. I got the feeling he's not from around here. The guys in the car with me said something about him being stationed somewhere so remote that no one they knew had any clue where it was."

Teyla went still. "What else did they say?" she demanded, showing the first signs of losing control of her emotions. "Tell us!"

Monica flinched again. "I don't know! Um… the scientist… he never spoke to me, but there was always one there. He was talking to someone on the phone, about an infection, or a disease. He said if they could prove it on this guy, then they would have less to worry about. They said something about him being infected before, so the results should be interesting."

Teyla had to take a deep breath, moving away from the bed and towards Ziva, pulling the other woman out of the small section.

"You must call Agent Gibbs now," Teyla told her, sure John wouldn't have his cell phone on. Not that she knew how to use one anyway.

"Why?" Ziva asked, looking back through the curtains at a semi-distraught Monica. "You know who she's talking about, don't you."

Teyla nodded. "It is Colonel Sheppard. He's their next target."

* * *

The marines burst through the door into the warehouse, and almost immediately, gunfire sounded out. But Sheppard had gotten a good look at the layout from his quick peek over the window sill, and he knew there were plenty of unpacked crates once again just waiting to give his guys protection.

He followed the next marine in, pulling up the M16 and opening fire himself as he covered the marine's run to behind one of the crates. DiNozzo went next, opening fire with his sidearm as he moved from the door to the stack of crates nearby. His pistol sounded strange in comparison to the rapid fire of the rifles and the loud bangs of Ronon's shotgun coming from where they were breaking down the front of the warehouse.

Sheppard quickly ducked down beside DiNozzo, grinning wildly at the man who was looking slightly pissed. Then he turned around and lifted the end of the rifle over the top of the crates, taking out two men before ducking back down with a frown.

There were too many shooting at them. And those men in white coats had large guns that they obviously knew how to use.

"Dammit!" he spat, breaking DiNozzo's concentration enough to bring the agent back down behind the crates.

"What?" the other man demanded, speaking loudly over the gunfire. "What's the problem?"

Sheppard shook his head. "Something isn't right here. Those scientists aren't scientists, they're gunmen. Monroe wanted us here for some reason. What I can't figure out is why!"

DiNozzo looked a little worried, but Sheppard ignored it as he took aim again, shooting three men in white coats as they tried aiming for him. He looked around quickly, seeing the door that must have led to the garage the sergeant had been talking about. And the men trying to get through it.

Not thinking, Sheppard crouched back down and moved to the end of the crate stack, tapping the marine sitting there on the shoulder. "Cover me!"

The marine obliged, and Sheppard raced for the next stack of crates, moving himself closer to the door. He was a little surprised when someone followed him.

He turned around and found DiNozzo inches from him. Scowling, he ignored it for a moment, getting to his knees and spraying the room from a new angle with the rifle's ammunition.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded as he ducked back down, away from the barrage the guards sent their way. DiNozzo shook his head.

"You need someone to watch your back," the agent supplied, but Sheppard got the picture. Gibbs wanted someone watching him, and not necessarily just his back. Shaking his head again, Sheppard pointed a finger at him, knowing this was no time to argue.

"Don't get shot!" he ordered, shoving the man along to the end of their stack. If they could just get to the next one along, they should be able to get through the door without too much of a hassle like bullets and getting shot. "You go first, I'll cover you."

DiNozzo nodded, getting ready. Wishing General O'Neill had decided to whack these guys on the back of the head instead of bringing them into the investigation like Sheppard had originally wanted, the pilot got to his knees once more, opening fire on the closest guards while at the same time, luck shone down on them, and Ronon and Gibbs burst in from the front office.

DiNozzo raced across to the other stack, before getting to his own, taller knees and opening fire, providing cover for Sheppard to slide across without so much as a single bullet coming his way.

In retrospect, he probably should have realized something was wrong when that happened.

But at the time he was just glad he hadn't been shot, because bullets were a bitch. He got to his knees, the M16 steady in his hands, and moved slowly across to the end of the crate, pushing DiNozzo with him.

The door to the garage was in sight, and Sheppard glanced at it as he pulled down, aware that he was running out of ammunition, and that he might need it for whatever lay behind the door he was aiming for.

Because there were men in there, and if they hadn't come out at the sound of gunfire then something was going on.

He moved around DiNozzo, and tapped the man on the back. The agent looked around, spotting the door and the pilot's intention, before nodding and moving back with him. With the crate giving some protection, Sheppard leaned low against the wall and reached up to grab the handle.

Again, no bullets came his way to blow his hand off, and he started to get the feeling that something was wrong. But he felt the door click, and then he was pushing it open, storming through with the M16 up, a shouting NCIS agent at his side.

The men inside just grinned, and brought up their own weapons.

After that time sped up and Sheppard could do nothing. He recognised the weapons immediately, groaning and going for the trigger on his M16 just as the door behind them slammed shut. But the men waiting for them were quicker, better prepared, and they pulled the trigger on their tasers.

Even as Sheppard let loose a few rounds from his rifle, the electrodes struck him and he went stiff, the electricity pounding through his system. He dropped the rifle, aware only that he had hit at least one man before he was falling helplessly to the ground, his teeth and hair and skin on edge, the pain blinding, his limbs rigid. The ground hit him and then all he saw was black.

* * *

And on that note, I'll see you in two days...


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Wow, have you seen 'First Contact' yet? Pretty awesome, but the way they left it... with Sheppard in trouble like that... and now a two week wait... hm, this sounds familiar...

I guess the moral of the story here is... karma is a bitch.

**

* * *

**

Chapter 8:

The gunfire suddenly died down, and Gibbs stood up from behind the stack of crates, taking in the scene. Men were down and dying everywhere, and he cursed the loss of life, even as he stepped around the crates to move towards the suddenly surrendering men. The hospitals and NCIS headquarters would have a lot of work to do. Or Sheppard's base, wherever the hell that was, anyway. No doubt the air force colonel would take away his prisoners yet again.

The marines with him stepped forward, beginning to arrest the men on their knees, kicking aside weapons before they even touched the would-be prisoners. Gibbs would have gone to help, but he suddenly heard his phone ring. Holstering his sidearm, he grabbed it from his pocket and answered it.

"This is Gibbs."

It was Ziva. "Please tell me Colonel Sheppard is with you," she demanded, not even saving time for pleasantries. Gibbs' infamous gut started churning.

"I'm sure he's around here somewhere," the agent told her, looking around for the annoying pilot. The man was nowhere to be found. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone handing a phone to Ronon. "Why?"

"We just spoke to Monica," Ziva told him, as Gibbs remembered seeing both Sheppard and DiNozzo disappear into the back room just before the door had slammed shut. If they had gotten themselves shot, or worse, locked in, he was never going to let the colonel live it down. He hoped that was all it was.

"What did she have to say?" Gibbs demanded, seeing Ronon's face going stiff. Now his gut was really going.

"She helped these people pick up three marines and also described a fourth man who she was supposed to help with, but never got the chance. Teyla believes this man she described is Colonel Sheppard."

Gibbs reached the door at the same time as Ronon. They both paused at the door; it was the only reason they heard the sound of an engine starting.

Phone still to ear, Ronon stood back, lifted one huge leg and slammed it against the door, shoving the barrier open without even breaking a sweat. Still holding onto his phone, Gibbs grabbed his gun once more before heading in.

The morning daylight outside shone into the room, illuminating it well. Illuminating it and the unmarked van pulling away…

Cursing, Gibbs ran to open roller door, but before he could get a shot off the van disappeared around a corner. Leaving a room devoid of scientists, Sheppard and DiNozzo.

"Dammit!" Ronon shouted, bringing up a hand to push his dreadlocks out of the way. "They're gone McKay! They got him. Dammit!"

Trying to remain calm, trying not to think about whose hands his agent might be in right now, Gibbs backed away, eyes sweeping the room, taking in the dropped M16, a 9mm that had to be DiNozzo's and spent shells, shaking his head. The room was clear of everything else.

He brought his phone to his ear. "We didn't figure it out quick enough, Ziva," he told the woman waiting impatiently on the other end. "Sheppard's gone, and DiNozzo's with him."

The woman cursed in Arabic, and Gibbs rubbed his head, ignoring it. "Get both of you back to NCIS headquarters as soon as someone else comes to protect Monica. We'll get him back, Ziva."

He hung up, turning to Ronon, who was just shutting off a babbling McKay. He looked the taller man in the eye, knowing he had heard his promise.

"We'll get them both back."

* * *

McKay paced along the lab floor, ignoring the worried stares of both Abby and McGee. He still felt jittery, the result of one too many Caf-Pows (okay, more than one too many) and his friend being kidnapped to be experimented on.

And that wasn't the worst of it.

He hadn't been quick enough. He could have figured out how to crack the damn password quicker. He could have called Ellis before calling Sheppard's phone. He could have avoided wasting time that could have been spent locating Sheppard's transmitter before whoever the bad guy of the week was had jammed it.

Then again, he could have done a myriad of different things, and, knowing Sheppard, the man still would have gotten himself kidnapped.

He held his cell phone open in his hand, staring at it, not liking the phone call he was about to make. General O'Neill was not going to be a happy camper.

Sighing, he decided he better get it over and done with. Closing his eyes, he pressed redial, thinking that once again he was going to have to call and tell O'Neill that Sheppard was in trouble.

The General took a while to pick up – the man was not punctual or courteous, but for once McKay didn't mind.

"O'Neill speaking."

McKay jumped, not expecting the greeting while he was deep in thought, rehearsing what he was going to say.

"General," he greeted back, aware – acutely aware – of McGee and Abby staring at him. "Uh… It's uh, it's McKay."

"McKay!" O'Neill sounded way too enthusiastic. Why did Rodney always have to be the one to burst his bubble? "Have you called to tell me some good news? That you've made some progress now that Sheppard's no longer under arrest?"

McKay winced, turning in his path and rubbing a hand through his hair. "Ah, not really. In fact we've uh… we've kind of taken a step in the wrong direction."

There was a moment of silence. "Want to elaborate on that a little, McKay?" The General's voice was calm but clipped, careful and to anyone who knew him, very, very annoyed.

"Not really."

"Elaborate anyway, McKay," O'Neill ordered. "And do it quickly."

"Sheppard's been kidnapped."

Again, a moment of silence. "Kidnapped, you say." Again, silence. "I'm assuming it's by the people who killed our marines. How can one guy get into so much trouble?"

"Beats me," McKay said flippantly, moving towards the laptop he had finally cracked, more confident now that he was getting onto stuff that he knew. "But they've been planning this since the start and put it into place as soon as they knew he was on… uh, back," he amended with a glance at his spectators. "I found an entry, one of the last ones on this computer I have. They found out he was around, and decided that he would be a good test subject."

"How so?" O'Neill asked, and somehow McKay could tell that he had taken up his own pacing. "I would have thought holding someone like Sheppard would be dangerous."

"Well, apparently the benefits outweigh the risks. They've got this whole plan down on how to get to him. Of course, they didn't use it, but the basic principles are still here. Only instead of getting the woman to drug him, I guess they just grabbed him at the warehouse they were raiding."

"When I say elaborate, _really_ elaborate, McKay," the general ordered, sighing. "Why did they choose him?"

"For one, because he's a U.S. Air Force colonel involved in one of the most secret international conspiracies of our time. Not just any colonel, but the colonel to do with it all. They figure if they can test the experiment successfully on him, it will be more accepted."

"And for two?"

"Because he's been infected by a similar retrovirus before." McKay ignored the shocked looks of the two NCIS agents. "I mean, that was different, obviously, but they're using a very similar formula as was in Dr Beckett's retrovirus. But he's still been... well, you know, before. They want to see if that has any effect. But mostly I just think that it's because it's Sheppard. They know a bit about him, enough to know he's important. And because he's a trouble magnet."

O'Neill sighed. "Any idea where they took him?" he asked.

McKay had the nerve to laugh. Or maybe nerves were exactly the problem. "If I knew that… No. None. There's no reference in any of these computers. None that I've found yet, anyway." He heard O'Neill begin to grumble. "But I'll keep digging. And we've still got the scientist from the first raid. Maybe he can tell us something."

"Wasn't he the one who told you to go on the second raid? The one where Sheppard got himself kidnapped?"

McKay shrugged. "Well, yeah. But we could just let Ronon at him. There might not be much left, but he'd still tell."

"Just get back to the _Apollo_, McKay. I'll call Ellis and see if he can pick up Sheppard's subcutaneous transmitter. With any luck they won't have shut it off."

"Ah, one other thing," McKay said before O'Neill could hang up. "One of the NCIS agents got nabbed as well."

There was a pause. A long pause. "Well, we'll just have to get him back, won't we."

McKay sighed and then took a deep breath. "I think we should bring them in," he told O'Neill. "On everything."

This time you could actually feel the tension in the pause. And then the biggest shock of the day hit him. "Okay. Bring them in. Completely."

McKay went still. "I'm sorry. What?"

"You're right. Bring them in on everything, McKay," O'Neill ordered. "Just those who you think need to be. This Gibbs guy, his team, only a few. I'll call the Director myself and explain everything. Make sure you explain to them that they are to tell _no one_. As in no one. I'll send someone along with beacons so they can be beamed aboard the _Apollo_."

O'Neill hung up, leaving a gobsmacked McKay standing in front of the laptop, mouth wide open. "Wow, I can't believe he actually listened to me."

Abby and McGee exchanged a look. "Not as bad as you thought?" McGee asked, having quite enjoyed the other man's discomfort. After a morning of insults, it was good to see the scientist sweating, even if it was just figuratively.

"No, definitely as bad as I thought," McKay muttered back. "Where's your boss?"

* * *

Once again his office was crowded when Gibbs got back, Ronon – who had remained silent and fuming the whole way back – hot on his heels. The greying agent slowed, though he didn't stop, just taking in the pacing McKay, a very worried Teyla and his confused looking agents.

And somehow that confusion just made him angrier. He turned on Dr McKay, sure he was the only one who would break under the Gibbs' stare.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, looking up at Ronon as the man walked past to lean next to Teyla. McKay jumped, as if he hadn't heard them come up, before looking at him, obviously steeling himself. Gibbs didn't give him a chance.

"I swear to God, if you don't tell me what the hell is going on, I will…" He couldn't come up with a threat that sounded promising enough. "My agent was just kidnapped! I demand to know what you've gotten him into."

"Well, then," McKay snapped, eyes wide, but face tight with anger. "I guess it's a good thing I've been ordered to bring you in."

Gibbs stood up straighter, tense, not exactly sure he understood what McKay meant. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, you're all about to get security clearance for the biggest secret in over a dozen countries. Including this one, Russia, China and England."

Gibbs moved over to his desk. "So all it took was the kidnapping of one of my agents?"

McKay's face hardened. "Sheppard was taken too," he snapped. "And unlike you, we know exactly what they'll but the both of them through if we don't find them as quickly as possible."

Gibbs nodded slowly, backing off. "Okay. Explain away."

McKay shook his head. "This, you won't believe unless you see it." He turned and grabbed three innocuous looking black cartridges, handing them to Gibbs, McGee and Ziva. He smiled sympathetically at Abby. "Sorry. O'Neill only gave me three. But they can tell you all about it when they get back."

Gibbs' head shot up from studying the strange device, even as Abby pouted. "Where are we going?"

"First, back to that conference room. And then… well, once we get there, it will all be pretty self-explanatory."

Confused, Gibbs nevertheless allowed himself to be ushered into the room with his team. McKay firmly closed the door behind him.

"Please don't lose those beacons. They're very expensive." He clicked the radio in his hand. "_Apollo_, we're ready."

Before Gibbs could even ask what the Apollo was, he was encased in bright white light. That lasted all of a second, dimming down to…

"Oh my," Ziva muttered, moving closer to the window in front of them. And down, through space, at what could only be…

"Earth?" McGee breathed, and shocked as well, Gibbs turned around on the spot, taking in the strange consoles, the men and women staring at them, and the dark-skinned colonel who was coming to stand beside McKay.

"Agent Gibbs, I presume," the man greeted. "I'm Colonel Ellis, commander of the warship _Apollo_. Welcome to outer space."

* * *

Half an hour later the NCIS team was shocked and overwhelmed. They couldn't believe what they had just heard. Spaceships? Intergalactic travel through a wormhole? Aliens and enemies and life-sucking bugs?

"I cannot believe this has been kept secret for twelve years," Ziva breathed, leaning back in her chair, glancing at her colleagues.

McKay shrugged and took his own chair. "Do you know the kind of mass hysteria would have followed if it had been made public. We've seen it, in other realities, other worlds… The fights over the Stargate have been bad enough between the U.S. and Russia. There's dozens of other countries that would want it. Thankfully the ones that do know realize that the Earth-based program is better off in capable hands."

"And you two come from another galaxy?" McGee asked, glancing at Ronon and Teyla. They both nodded, and McGee's face took on this excited shine. "This is going to be gold for my next book."

McKay snapped upright. "No, it isn't. None of you are allowed to tell any of this to anyone but Abby. Your Director already knows, but any family, friends, loved ones… you are not allowed to tell any of them. Any of them. For your sake, and theirs."

There was silence for a moment, Gibbs looked up, his gaze thoughtful and hard. "Why are you telling us?" he asked, looking around. "You've baulked for the entire length of this investigation. You've definitely got the resources to do this on your own. Why bring us in now?"

McKay looked at him, meeting his eyes, though he had a lot more trouble with it than Sheppard did. "Because Sheppard was right. You're good investigators."

Gibbs looked a little surprised. "He said that, did he?"

Rodney nodded. "Once, when we were reading your files, and again after we took your evidence." He grinned. "He's not the flyboy he pretends to be. He didn't get to be the military commander of Atlantis because of his piloting skills. He's a smart man and he knows how to judge people. He said you'd be good in this investigation, and I'm inclined to believe him. And thankfully, General O'Neill was inclined to believe me."

The older agent nodded. "Okay. So what now?"

"What do you mean, what now?" McKay demanded. "Now we find Sheppard and DiNozzo, bust the bad guys and then we can go home to Atlantis."

"And how do we find them?" Gibbs asked, crossing his arms. "I'm assuming there was nothing on those laptops, or we wouldn't be in a spaceship hovering over Earth, being told that travel to other planets is a whole lot easier than everyone thinks."

McKay scowled. "Aren't you the investigator? Look, I can still do some digging on those laptops, and McGee can help me. But our best bet is probably the scientist in NCIS holding. We already tried locating Sheppard through his subcutaneous transmitter, but obviously that fell through."

"Our best bet is the guy who sent Sheppard to be kidnapped in the first place?" Gibbs demanded, leaning back. Across from him, Ronon cracked his knuckles.

"It will be once I'm through with him."

McKay groaned but ignored his team mate. "Yes. If he knew enough to know who Sheppard was when you interviewed him, no doubt he knows enough to know who's hiring him."

"We should talk to Monica again," Ziva interrupted, looking at Teyla, who nodded her agreement. "Maybe she knows more."

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully, then turned back to McKay. "Can they be… beamed down to wherever they need to go."

McKay nodded slightly obliviously. "Yeah, sure they can. Just head on down to the bridge, let Ellis know where you need to go." He snapped his fingers. "What did you get from the second warehouse?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Not sure yet. We left the marines to section it off, thinking we would have a chance to go back there. Why?"

"Because they had to be communicating somehow. You said they all started surrendering as soon as they had Sheppard and DiNozzo. If they had some technology, I might be able to back trace it. I need to go to the warehouse."

Gibbs nodded, feeling that it was time to get this investigation on the road. "Ziva, take Teyla to the hospital, see what you can get from Monica. See if she knows anything else. McGee, you and McKay go back to the warehouse, check out the crime scene."

The people mentioned stood and walked off, though for McKay it was no small task. At Atlantis there were two people he took orders from: Woolsey and Sheppard. And even then, it wasn't all the time, and it was usually with a lot of debate. But he knew that now, Sheppard's best chance lay with the NCIS agent who probably wouldn't take any nonsense anyway.

Ronon watched his team mates leave, and then turned to Gibbs, slouching easily in his chair.

"What about me?" Ronon asked, his eyes flashing menacingly. The NCIS agents were quickly coming to realize it was just his natural state.

Gibbs held his gaze easily though. The big man's words were fore in his mind, and reflecting on those, the greying agent smiled confidently. "Me and you are going to have a chat with Dr Monroe."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Time to find out how Sheppard and DiNozzo are doing...

And thanks again for everyone's reviews!

**

* * *

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Chapter 9:

DiNozzo was sure he didn't want to open his eyes.

His whole body ached, right from his toes to his teeth. His head pounded, his mouth was dry and whatever he was lying on was freaking hard.

But he was waking, however slowly, and as consciousness returned, so did the ache in his entire body, and he couldn't help but groan.

Someone nearby shuffled over, but it took DiNozzo a moment to realize that there was even someone else in the room with him. He only fully comprehended the fact when someone grabbed his shoulders and spoke softly.

"DiNozzo, you finally awake?"

He recognised the voice, and guessed he should open his eyes. It wasn't easy, but he finally managed to blink them open, blurriness and darkness giving way slowly to the shadowy outline of Sheppard's face.

The face broke out in a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I was getting worried. You okay?"

DiNozzo sat up, bringing a hand to his head and wincing. "Compared to what?" he demanded when he opened his eyes after the pain subsided slightly. "I just got tasered. Not much fun."

Sheppard shrugged and sat back, against the nearby wall. "At least there's no after taste," he muttered, thinking of Wraith stunners as the NCIS agent looked around. DiNozzo didn't hear him.

"Where are we?"

Sheppard looked around as well, taking in the small, cold cell, the close, tiled walls that managed to glow slightly even in the dark, the high ceiling above, the floor maybe nine feet squared. Then he looked back at DiNozzo, who was shuffling backwards to find his own section of wall to lean against.

"No idea," he told the agent, shrugging. "I was unconscious when they brought us in."

DiNozzo rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work the tension out of it. "Any idea who they are, then?"

Sheppard chuckled darkly. "The guys who were experimenting on Merton, would be my guess," he answered dryly. "They've left us alone since dumping us in here, so far as I'm aware, so I don't know for sure."

He suddenly got to his feet, turning to face the wall, feeling along it, looking for the door. DiNozzo watched him, sure, for some reason, that the pilot had done this before, undoubtedly to little success.

This time however, Sheppard paused in his feel of their cell, looking back at the agent resting in the floor. "Sorry," he apologised before turning back to his search.

DiNozzo frowned. "What? Why? This isn't your fault." Was it?

Sheppard sighed and gave up the search, moving back to his original spot opposite DiNozzo. "The raid was a trap," he told the agent, slumping down to the cold, hard ground. "Monroe sent us there so they could grab us. Or me, probably, because they probably have no clue who you are."

DiNozzo thought over that, guessing the man was probably right. "You don't seem that worried out it," he pointed out, bringing his knees up to rest his elbows on them.

Sheppard chuckled again. "Yeah, these guys are nothing compared to…" He suddenly realized what he was about to say and paused. "Something you're not authorised to know."

Tony scowled. "You're not going to keep that up, are you? They might have been after you, but I am still here. I should know what we're up against."

The pilot looked down, fiddling with his shirt. And then he sighed. "Look, you wouldn't believe me if I did tell you. If we get out of here, maybe I'll tell you. But for now, you might be better off not knowing."

"Why do you say that?" DiNozzo asked wryly, resting his head against the cool wall. It helped his head slightly.

Sheppard shrugged. "I don't know why they wanted us… me," he pointed out. "For all I know, that scientist didn't know half as much as we thought he did and they want to know more." He shrugged again. "I don't know, and I don't really want to know just yet. But I am sure that whatever it is, it isn't good, and hopefully I can convince them that you have nothing to do with this." He paused and looked around. "Hear me! He has nothing to do with this!"

DiNozzo looked at him with worry, but Sheppard pointed to a corner high above them. "They're watching us. And listening, no doubt. Seeing if we'll spit anything out."

As if proving him right the lights suddenly switched on, and the two men groaned, closing eyes quickly against the sudden brightness. Sheppard recovered first, barely a second before DiNozzo, getting to his feet, and looking around. At least he could see the door now – DiNozzo was leaning against it.

And then, proving Sheppard right, a voice echoed about the small cell.

"We know what you're thinking, Colonel Sheppard."

The man scowled, and looked up at the now visible camera. "And what am I thinking?" he demanded loudly, hands on his hips.

"On your feet, Agent DiNozzo," the voice ordered, and, a little nervous, DiNozzo got to his feet to await the next instructions. He didn't have to wait long.

"Both of you face the opposite wall, and put your hands against it. If you don't move, or make any attempt at escape, you will not be harmed."

After a slight pause, Sheppard obeyed, though DiNozzo could hear him muttering as he copied, feeling slightly out of his depth.

"Not quite what I was thinking."

They waited patiently as the door buzzed and then clicked open, allowing three men to enter the room. DiNozzo watched out of the corner of his eye as they approached, bindings in the hands of one of them. Beside him, Sheppard tensed, his body still as his eyes flitted around.

The three men didn't even see it coming. Hell, DiNozzo was waiting for it and he didn't see it coming. As the men split up, two headed for the pilot, another for the agent, Sheppard waited. Waited for them to close in.

And then he lashed out.

He spun, elbow raised, and as fast as he moved, his aim was still good. His elbow crashed into the temple of the nearest guard, and the man fell to the floor immediately, unconscious before he hit. Sheppard barely seemed to notice, completing the spin and coming to face his second guard.

DiNozzo began to follow his lead, turning on his own guard with a mean right hook. The man blocked, but just because Tony wasn't some special ops pilot or whatever, it didn't mean he was helpless. The guard blocked, leaving himself open, and DiNozzo followed through with a left jab at his opponent's face.

The guard ducked to the side, and Tony retracted his arm, before landing a hard hit on the guy's stomach. The guard grunted, bending over double, and DiNozzo took him out with a knee to his forehead.

The man dropped, and DiNozzo turned to find Sheppard nodding at him. "Nice," was all he said, before turning for the door, stepping over the unconscious body of his second opponent. The agent followed him again.

Through into another room.

Sheppard growled in exasperation, looking around the square room. It was bigger than the cell they had just left, but there was no doubt it was still a cell. One door, heavy looking and quite obviously locked. Again, high ceilings, walls the strained white of hospitals except along one wall that was covered in mirrors. DiNozzo sighed, realizing they weren't going to be escaping any time soon.

As if to further mock him, a laugh came over the speakers hidden in the room somewhere. Sheppard scowled, and moved to the mirrors, glaring through them, sure they were actually one-way windows.

"What do you want?" he demanded loudly, angrily. The laughter broke off at his question, and there was a slight pause.

"We have what we want," the same voice from before told him. "The military commander of Atlantis."

Sheppard feigned ignorance, while DiNozzo tried not to look too interested. "I'm sorry, of where?"

When the voice came back, it was not amused. "Don't try games with us, Colonel Sheppard. We know about Earth's foothold in another galaxy. We know you run the military there. Dr Ballon was very forthcoming once we paid him."

Sheppard scowled, glancing back at DiNozzo. "Well, you can tell Ballon there's not many shopping centres in the basement of Area 51 where he'll be able to spend his money," he snapped, realizing he wasn't going to keep anything a secret. Behind him, DiNozzo's jaw dropped. Another galaxy? Atlantis? What the hell?

"In fact, there's not much there but darkness and bugs. But if you let us go now, maybe we can do something about the bugs."

The voice scoffed. "Please. They're not going to find you. This building is jammed, so they can't pick up your transmitter. You're very deep underground. And there are dozens of guards between here and the surface. Dozens more between the surface and the exits."

"A lot of trouble to go to for little old me," Sheppard told them, feeling slightly nervous. What the hell did they want with him?

"We've heard the stories," the voice told him lightly. "Heard about your predisposition to getting out of trouble. Out of prisons and cells. Wraith ships. Those kind of things."

Sheppard had the nerve to grin, shrugging and looking back at an overwhelmed DiNozzo. "It's true," he said, as if speaking only to the agent. When he turned back though, his gaze was murderous. "So you really should let us go now."

He took a step back, his gaze sweeping the length of the mirrors. "But I'm guessing you're going to be learning the hard way."

"We have taken my precautions, Colonel Sheppard. Once we knew you were back on Earth, we began planning for your attendance here."

"Excuse me!" DiNozzo spoke up before anyone else could speak. He just couldn't handle this anymore. "Can someone please tell me what the hell I going on?"

When the voice spoke next, the owner was obviously positively delighted. "You really have no idea, Agent DiNozzo? Colonel Sheppard here is the military commander of an international expedition to another galaxy."

Sheppard glanced at him. "Told you that you wouldn't believe me," he muttered as DiNozzo's jaw dropped. "I'll explain it when we get out of here."

Somehow though, Tony could believe it. After what had happened to him in the past few hours, he could definitely believe it. He shook his head. "I knew it. Well, I didn't know it," he amended, taking in Sheppard's eyebrow twitch. "But I figured it had to be something big. And those men?"

"Experimented on with the DNA of an alien, life-sucking bug that evolved into a big life-sucking alien," Sheppard told him, raising his hand and gesturing at his chest with it. "Nasty bastards." He turned back to the window. "Which still doesn't explain why we're here?" he reminded the glass.

The voice chuckled. "All will become clear in time. Now, _this_ time, will you not attack my guards please. They don't like being unconscious."

Sheppard shrugged, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Can't make any promises."

"Hmm," the voice acknowledge. "I didn't think you would. However, I will tell you this now, Colonel Sheppard. We have one last marine here, who has been very accepting of the treatment. We found just the right balance for him, and now he's a good little hybrid."

Both Sheppard and DiNozzo growled at that, but the voice didn't seem to hear them. "And if you don't cooperate… Agent DiNozzo will be fed to it." After a slight pause from both men in the cell, the voice continued. "Well, not fed. They aren't Wraith, of course. But it will most certainly kill him, and it will most certainly not be quick to be ripped to shreds."

Sheppard glanced at DiNozzo, his eyes torn. Then he sighed. "I'll behave," he promised roughly, putting his hands up behind his head and turning away from the suddenly subdued agent.

The door at the back clicked, and five men in black entered, pistols up. No cushy tasers this time, Sheppard noticed. He turned slowly towards them, trying to appear non-threatening. The lead guard motioned with his Beretta.

"On your knees," he ordered to both men, and, with a sigh, Sheppard obeyed only slightly before DiNozzo, who was still trying to wrap his head around what had been happening, and what he had learned. He was trying quickly, but the knowledge that people from his planet were travelling not only to _other_ planets but other _galaxies_ wasn't exactly a simple concept to wrap his head around in any short order.

The guards didn't seem to notice as they none-too-gently grabbed his wrists and pulled them down behind the agent's back, binding them quickly with something hard and cutting. Obviously they didn't care about comfort, DiNozzo decided. Sheppard grunted as the guard behind him gave his an extra tug and then heaved the pilot to his feet.

Tony was ready when they pulled him up, and he dragged his feet underneath his body, steadying himself when the guard gave him a push in the back to get him started. When the annoyed and frustrated NCIS agent glanced back, the man – late twenties, a hard glint in his eye – gestured violently with his gun.

"Move it," someone ordered, and Sheppard decided to take point, heading for the door with a surprising confidence, leaving the others to follow. DiNozzo decided that dealing with this sort of crap on a daily basis left you highly desensitised to personal danger like being fed on by some kind of insect-human hybrid.

Yet more guards were waiting outside the door, and Sheppard nodded at them, apparently sizing them up. The men ignored him, two of them grabbing his arms to begin dragging him down the long, white corridor they found themselves in. DiNozzo looked around, finally getting his head into something resembling order.

"You know, I can suggest a really good decorator," he told them, taking in the institutionalised feel of everything.

The guards ignored him, but apparently Sheppard found it amusing. "You know, he's got a point. I mean, I have been away from Earth for a while but when did white become the new black?"

The guard next to DiNozzo rolled his eyes, but the agent leaned forward conspiratorially, his eyes wide with amusement. "It's like one of those bad horror films."

Sheppard caught on quickly. "With the mad scientists?"

DiNozzo nodded. "Turning people into monsters."

"And dumb ass guards doing their bidding with no thought about what's actually happening to the people they're guarding."

The 'dumb ass guard' holding Sheppard's arm didn't take too kindly to that. Stopping suddenly, he spun and rammed a fist into Sheppard's gut, so hard that the pilot doubled over, falling to one knee, winded.

The hand on his own arm tightened, and DiNozzo turned to the guard there, eyes all innocent. "Hey, he said it, not me."

Sheppard coughed and stood up straight, panting slightly. "Sorry, I have a habit of acting out against people unlawfully imprisoning me." He motioned back the way they were heading. "Shall we?"

The guard scowled and roughly shoved Sheppard back into motion, the pilot staggering a few steps before gathering himself and straightening. DiNozzo was pushed into walking himself, but with the hands still on his arms, he was kept up right.

They didn't speak again before coming to a door a few turns away from their cell. Sheppard glanced back the way they had come, hating how everything looked the same, before looking at the code the guard was punching into the lock on the door. He looked up at the man.

"Let me guess. You're birthday, so you can remember?"

The guard scowled and pushed him through as the door slowly opened. Sheppard stumbled into the room, looking around as he righted himself, taking in the screens, computers, charts organised about the walls, and the long glass wall, completely transparent this time. He inched closer, and found himself looking down into an isolation room, just like the one back on Atlantis. Except unlike the one at Atlantis, this one had an occupant.

Sheppard's breath caught in his throat, and he walked forward, looking down on the man imprisoned in the bare isolation room. DiNozzo walked forward with him, jaw dropping as he took in the pacing, hunched over, growling man. Sheppard, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was looking at, had seen it before, had felt the very same anger and loss of control when he had been infected with Iratus DNA. He growled, his face going tight, unable to really believe that his own people, that humans, had created a hybrid on purpose. Had mutated the marine into something humans were never meant to be, into something that only resembled his former state on the outside.

"You bastards," he spat, turning back, jumping to find three scientists and a middle-aged man in a suit in the room. It didn't matter though. In fact, they were exactly the people he was pissed at. "You have no idea what you've done."

The man in the suit smirked, and stepped forward. "We don't have to," he told the pilot callously, and both prisoners knew immediately that this was the man behind the voice. "We just have to create the best soldiers on offer."

Sheppard snarled. "That marine isn't a soldier any more," he snapped. "He's fodder. He's angry, and an animal, except he won't kill to eat, he'll kill for pleasure. You have _no right_ to play God like that!"

"Is that what… what was his name… Michael. Was that what he told you?" the man demanded, his eyes cunning slits over his smirk.

Sheppard went stiff. "It's a little different," he told the man, his voice soft. "Michael wasn't human. He was a murdering son of a bitch, still is. We were -."

The man cut him off. "I know what you were doing, Colonel Sheppard." He tilted his head back. "Because it's what we're doing. We're trying to help our people -."

It was Sheppard's turn to cut him off. "And how exactly does it help that marine?" he demanded, taking an angry step forward. "You have no idea what it's like! He is lost, and he won't be able to get back if you keep on pumping him full of your damn drug."

"You would know what it is like, wouldn't you," the man told him, softly, knowing exactly the kind of reaction that would bring.

John went completely still, his face motionless as his eyes bore deep holes into the other man's gaze. DiNozzo looked at him, wondering what they were both talking about, feeling out of the loop. And, judging by Sheppard's hatred, he wasn't going to be in the loop any time soon.

"Who are you?" Sheppard spat after a moment of tense silence. "Who do you work for? And what the hell am I doing here?"

"It doesn't matter who I am or who I work for," the man told him, walking forward towards the glass so he could peer down on the changed marine. "As for why you're here… well, get a good look, Colonel," he ordered, nodding down at the man pacing restlessly like a rabid dog in a cage.

"In two days, that will be you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

Feeling helpless and useless, and really, really freaking frustrated, McKay stood in the middle of the now abandoned, bloody and smelly warehouse, taking it in while McGee did his job. Whatever his job was.

McKay, on the other hand, was doing actual work. Or he would have been if there had been anything useful in this god-forsaken dump.

Giving a growl, he turned on the spot, just looking for something to spark a light bulb in his head, so he could rescue Sheppard's scrawny ass before he was turned into a bug again. He had been so sure, on board the Apollo, that there was something here, something useful and helpful, but he just couldn't find it.

"Dammit," he snapped at no one in particular, though there were a few marines nearby that heard, and they gave a small grin where they thought he couldn't see it, as if they knew anything about him. Well, if they thought six feet of muscle and kick ass would deter him from dressing them down they were –

"What's the problem?"

McKay jumped, swearing as he turned around to find McGee feet from him. He scowled at the younger man, crossing his arms and preparing to relieve himself of his annoyance.

"What do you think?" he snapped. "Sheppard's missing and this warehouse is useless!"

"We don't know that yet," McGee argued back, not backing down. He worked under Gibbs, and McKay's snarl was nothing in comparison. "We haven't even gone through half of the evidence yet."

"But it was a trap," McKay reminded him, though not liking the reminder himself. "Why would they have something that could bring them down when they knew they were going to have to give the place up once they got what they came for?"

McGee shrugged slowly. "Okay. Good point. But you were the one who said we should check this out."

McKay through his hands up. "Yes, but if I knew why then I wouldn't be standing here having this conversation!" He turned in a circle again, looking over every inch he could. "There _has_ to be something here."

"Okay," McGee placated. "But we don't know what we're looking for. So, why don't we look for what we need?"

McKay glared at him, before his face softened. With a huge sigh, he shrugged. "Okay. So what do we need?"

"That's easy," McGee told him, looking around. "Something that points to who was behind this."

McKay looked at him for a moment and then scowled. "Well, we already know that's not here." He rubbed his face. "Okay, let's go with your idea. And by that I mean, let's try another tact. What did the people _behind _this need?"

"Easy again," McGee nodded. "Colonel Sheppard."

McKay looked around, thoughts coming across his face as he nodded. "Right. But how did they know who Sheppard was. Or where he was coming from, what he was doing, all so they didn't harm their guinea pig before they could grab him."

Without waiting for McGee to reply, he moved towards the back room where the van had been waiting for Sheppard, muttering to himself. McGee followed, wondering what the scientist had thought of now.

"This is where they got him, right," McKay asked for confirmation, not needing McGee's nod. "But we've already been through here. Besides, they needed to see him entering the building. Needed to make sure he was here, that he wasn't coming in unexpected…"

He trailed off, moving back out of the room and across the warehouse to the back door, searching the walls once more for cameras or something that could watch what had gone down. Nothing, just like he expected and he moved through the door out into the bright light of the early afternoon.

McGee followed, a little confused. "What exactly are you looking for?" he asked, wanting to help out as much as he could. After all, it wasn't just Sheppard in trouble.

McKay turned to him, a determined look in his eye. "We know they needed to know where Sheppard was going and coming from. Which means, if we back trace his steps…"

McGee got it, grinning in pre-emptive triumph. "We should be able to find something that would have been able to latch onto his position."

* * *

The hospital seemed just as busy as it had earlier that day as Teyla and Ziva walked the halls to find post-op. They had already spoken to Dr Hudson, who had told them that surgery had gone well. Monica had been out of the operating room for close on three hours – though neither woman knew where the time had gone – and should be waking up any time now.

Thankfully Ziva seemed to know where she was going, because Teyla had no clue. The sheer size of this building was slightly overwhelming, even after four years of living in Atlantis. Not only had she grown used to the floating city, but Atlantis had never seemed so imposing as this squat, overbearing building.

Finally they arrived at the ward, and with a few directions from the nurse on duty, the two women moved to where Monica lay, awake, her arm in a sling.

She jumped as Ziva pushed back the curtains, her face dropping with guilt as she recognised them. She dropped her head and sighed.

"You didn't get to him in time, did you?"

Teyla shared a look with Ziva, and then moved to stand by Monica once again. "That is not your fault," she comforted. "However, you may be able to help us find him."

Monica looked up, her eyes glistening with tears. She nodded. "I'll do what I can. But I don't know how much help I will be."

"That is fine," Teyla assured her again, her words and tone more soothing than anything Ziva could have managed under the circumstances. "We will ask you some questions, and answer them as well as you are able."

She looked up at Ziva, who nodded, glad she could handle this side of the interview. "You said before that they would pick you up before going to find each man. Where would they pick you up from?"

"My home," Monica told them. "Outside my apartment. They would call on the phone they gave me, and tell me barely ten minutes before that they were coming to pick me up."

"Do you still have that phone?" Ziva asked, guessing the answer before Monica shook her head.

It didn't matter. They could still get security tape footage from outside the apartment building. "What days and times did they pick you up?"

Monica swallowed. "Private Merton, nine, ten days ago, now. They called me at… I think it was about three in the morning. Ten minutes later I was in the car. The next was two days later, at four. And the third another three days later, at noon." She looked down, shaking her head. "You believe me, don't you?" she asked, looking back up, her eyes wide in sorrow. "That I didn't want to do it."

Before Ziva could let off some remark about still doing it anyway, Teyla laid a hand on Monica's arm. "We believe you," she muttered simply, and, to Ziva's relief, Monica didn't start crying any more than she already was. Teyla continued. "When did they tell you about the fourth man?"

"Um, not long before Monash. I'm not sure, really. I was… I lost track of time after him. I was a mess. I wasn't sleeping, eating, going to work. But um, yeah, four days ago, I think. They called me up, told me to meet them. They took me for a drive. I told them no, that I was done. They threatened my mother again. They dropped me off and told me to wait for the next call."

"But it never came?" Ziva asked, and Monica shook her head.

"No. Instead they came to kill me. And that's when you both showed up." She suddenly looked startled and looked them both in the eye. "Did I ever thank you for that?"

Teyla smiled gently. "There is no need. What kind of car did they drive?"

Monica shrugged helplessly. "A black one? I'm sorry, I've never been good with cars. It was a sedan, I think. A driver and scientist up front. Two guards in the back with me."

"Did these guards wear a uniform of any kind?" Ziva asked, taking notes. Monica shrugged again.

"Not really. Black clothes. They didn't have any patches or anything that I could see. I was terrified anyway, and I didn't really look at them. They always carried tasers though."

Ziva shared a looked with Teyla. That could lead them to something. You couldn't just buy a bunch of tasers and not have left records of it.

"Did they mention any corporations or businesses?" Ziva asked. "Or any addresses? Cities? Anything they might have been dealing with."

Monica shook her head again. "They were always careful not too say much in front of me," she told them. Then she gained a thoughtful look, before shrugging. "Although…"

She trailed off and Ziva shared a look with Teyla. "Although what?" the alien woman demanded, though she never lost that gentle sympathy.

Monica shrugged. "On the third run, with Monash. The scientist was on the phone about some kind of shipment."

"Shipment of what?" Ziva asked, hoping it would be exactly this easy. Then her hopes were dashed and Monica shook her head.

"They didn't say of what. Or where. But they did say when. Supposedly a truck was bringing it in at eleven am… yesterday. He said it would be useful if they ever moved the experiments back to the lab. If that's any help."

Ziva nodded. "No doubt it will be." If they could find out what company was behind this. She closed her notepad and tried a smile at the injured woman. "Thank you Monica. We'll be in touch if we have any more questions."

She left, and Teyla wasn't far behind her, offering Monica a squeeze of comfort before slipping out of the room. The man on guard closed the door behind them, and Ziva turned to her companion.

"I do not know how you do it," the Mossad officer snapped, though her frustration wasn't aimed at Teyla. The Athosian woman just smiled.

"Trust me. As leader of my people, patience may be very useful at times. But as a member of Colonel Sheppard's team, it is most definitely a requirement."

Ziva grinned at that, thinking about her own team dynamics. "Oh, trust me, I know. Tony can be quite…"

She trailed off, not quite able to find the right word, not when the man she was talking about was in serious trouble. Teyla, however, seemed to get the idea.

"I know. Believe me, I know."

* * *

DiNozzo paced the cell restlessly, still rubbing his wrists from where the bonds had chaffed. The cell wasn't realistically long or wide enough to get some serious pacing going, but the NCIS agent was doing well with what he had, barely noticing that he had to stop and turn very nine feet, so deep in thought was he.

He was anxious. Not for himself, though that was certainly a worry. But after telling Sheppard they had kidnapped him just to be experimented on – a revelation that had finally cracked the imperturbable colonel – they had taken the man away, while DiNozzo was dragged back to this cell to pace and wonder. And that had been a few hours ago.

What the hell was going on?

Obviously these people had issues though. Starting with a God-complex and ending with insanity. But they also obviously had intimate knowledge of whatever it was Sheppard was involved in, and that had shaken the pilot as well. Hell, DiNozzo hadn't understood half of it, and it had shaken him. This was huge. This was way more than he could handle. Space travel? Alien bug DNA? An expedition to another galaxy?

He suddenly realized he had paused in his pacing, and shook his head, turning around to go back the way he had come, when the door to the cell opened. Tony looked up in surprise, taking a step back as Sheppard was shoved into the room, barefoot and wearing scrubs instead of his shirt and jeans. The door was closed before the colonel could even regain his footing.

Sheppard turned and scowled at the closed door, while DiNozzo watched him carefully for any sign. Of course, when the pilot turned around to face him, he noticed, and lost his frustration.

"Are you… still you?" DiNozzo asked, and Sheppard nodded wearily, finding a spot on the wall to slide down.

"Yeah. Still me. They were just running some tests. Getting their before shots. Didn't inject me with anything." He rubbed his eyes. "Thank God for that."

DiNozzo sat down against the wall too, facing the door. "You all right? You know, relatively speaking."

"I'm fine," Sheppard responded automatically.

"Really?" Tony asked, smirking. "Cause you look like crap. What did they do to you?"

"Blood tests, MRI, that kind of thing. I'm just wrecked. I don't think I've slept since coming back to Earth."

DiNozzo couldn't help but laugh at that, and it was contagious, at least a little. Sheppard grinned too.

"Yeah, _back to Earth_." The agent shook his head. "Since when have we been travelling _away_ from Earth?"

DiNozzo almost expected the man not to answer. But apparently Sheppard had given up on the whole international secrecy deal, because he shrugged.

"About twelve years now, I think. On and off, anyway. We use a device we call the Stargate to establish worm holes to other Stargates throughout the galaxy."

"And other galaxies, apparently," DiNozzo reminded him needlessly. Sheppard nodded tiredly. "And you're stationed in another one?"

Again Sheppard nodded. "Yep. Pegasus Galaxy. Three week flight in hyperspace, three seconds via ZPM powered Stargate, half an hour via the Midway Station."

DiNozzo stared at him. "I think I understood about half of that," he muttered. "And not the half I wanted to understand."

"Don't worry. When we get out of here, I'll explain everything to you."

"You mean, if…" DiNozzo sighed, looking across at his companion. "If they don't turn you into some kind of bug-man."

Sheppard actually flinched, his face hardening. "We'll get out of here," he promised vehemently. "These people, whoever they are, seriously underestimate the type of resources my people have at their disposal."

DiNozzo was silent for a moment. "What did that man mean… you would know what it was like? And who is this Michael?"

He wasn't sure that was what he exactly wanted to ask, but the questions came out anyway. Sheppard sighed and shook his head, clearly tired.

"Second year on Atlantis, one of the doctors designed a retrovirus to strip the Iratus side from the Wraith – the Wraith evolved from Iratus bugs who were feeding on humans and transferring the eaten human DNA to their offspring. Basically they're evil aliens who suck the life from you with their bare hands."

DiNozzo frowned. "That's… disturbing."

Sheppard chuckled darkly and subconsciously rubbed his chest. "You have no idea. Anyway, this retrovirus, as designed by our doctor, was tested twice, though only once on purpose. We captured a Wraith, injected him… it made him human, but the effects weren't permanent, and he soon realized what he actually was. Let's just leave it at saying the experiment was a complete failure, and the result, Michael, has caused us a lot of trouble. You don't _want_ to know the rest."

"And the other time?" DiNozzo asked, almost afraid to know. What kind of crap did these people have to put up with, on a daily basis?

"A young Wraith girl tested it on herself, long before it was ready. It did the reverse of what it was supposed to. Stripped away her human parts and left… a mutated Iratus bug. Anyway, she tried feeding off me, infected me with the retrovirus, and I began devolving into something similar." He shook his head at the memories. "It was not easy to fix me."

"But obviously they did," DiNozzo pointed out. "I mean, I can't see any bug parts."

"Yeah, but that whole thing is what has these guys so interested. For some reason they're sure that it left a mark."

"Is that why they wanted you?" the agent asked, and Sheppard shrugged.

"Partly. Partly cause I'm the military commander, I think. Something similar happened before, my team kidnapped to prove the usefulness of something to the powers that be. But you don't need to know about that."

DiNozzo almost pushed, but seeing the emotion actually flitting across the colonel's face, he left it alone. Obviously it was a sore point. So instead, he asked, "What was it like?"

He could have hit himself, asking that question. Sheppard's head snapped up, his eyes tight, suspicious, hard. For a moment, DiNozzo was sure the man was never going to answer, at the least, and hit him at the most. But then Sheppard sighed and shrugged.

"One of the worst experiences of my life," he admitted candidly. "You lose control. You lose yourself. I was on this inhibitor, that was supposed to stop the virus, or at least slow it down. Instead, it only kept me lucid. I was mutating into something… hideous, on the inside and out. I could see myself doing these terrible, strange things, things that were totally out of character. I almost choked my commander, the expedition leader, and I couldn't have stopped myself. I didn't want to, and it was absolutely terrifying."

He shook his head, surprised himself that he was talking about this to a man he hardly knew. Or maybe some of it was for the cameras, seeing if someone behind them would grow a conscience. "I just… I remember losing everything about myself that makes a person human. A conscience, needs more basic than… simply hurting and hunting and escaping."

He smiled weakly up at DiNozzo, who had gone still. "That marine in that isolation room? This last week would have been hell for him. He would have been feeling everything as he slid into a state worse than an animal, where all he wanted to do was kill, and there would have been nothing he could do about it. Not when they kept pumping him full of their damn drug."

"But it's different, isn't it?" DiNozzo asked, slightly breathless. "I mean, he isn't mutating. He still _looked_ human."

Sheppard nodded. "Yeah, but the basic principle is the same. It still uses Iratus DNA. And from what they described… it is exactly like what happened to me except he doesn't get the long, grey fingers or cat's eyes. Mentally… it's exactly the same."

He suddenly looked around, fists clenching, looking exposed and scared. "I can't go through that again," he told DiNozzo quietly. "Once was bad enough. I'd rather die than have to do it all over."

* * *

Okay, that's totally enough of the mushy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** For those who have been waiting, here's Gibbs' and Ronon's interrogation!

And thanks again to everyone who has reviewed!

**

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Chapter 11:

Gibbs stared through the one way glass at Monroe, his anger fuming just below the surface. He was working himself up, and it was all too easy, thinking about this man, and all that he had done. All too easy.

And all because in the interview room, the formerly nervous and anxious Dr Monroe was smiling smugly, a triumphant, arrogant sneer in his eyes. He knew. He knew his whole sacrifice had been worth it to the bigger picture. He knew Sheppard had fallen for the trap.

Keeping that in mind, still slightly uncomfortable with his and Ronon's plan, he moved out of the viewing room and down the corridor, keeping a tight rein on his anger. He didn't slam the door open, or even slam it closed, because he knew that would only please the traitorous scientist waiting in the interview room.

Monroe looked up as Gibbs entered the room, and his face split in a grin that made the ageing man want to smash the bastard's face in. Well, there was still plenty of time.

"What, no sidekick this time?" Monroe asked, crossing his arms and leaning back. Gibbs didn't even look at him, just took his seat.

"How long did you have this planned?" Gibbs asked, and Monroe shrugged, cocky in his win.

"Since we knew Sheppard was back on Earth. Wait, you do know that now, don't you?" Monroe made sure, as if international secrecy was any issue for him. "How did that feel, knowing _I _knew about the Stargate before you did?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Honestly? I don't really care. Star Trek was more interesting."

Monroe raised an eyebrow. "Please. I know you were pissed you didn't know what he was here for. You could practically feel the tension between the two of you. Just think, I did you a favour, getting him out of your hair."

"And my agent?"

Monroe looked surprised at that, but then he shrugged. "If he was there, it's his own fault. They only wanted Sheppard."

Gibbs looked up at him, eyeing the man easily, leaning back in his seat. "Do you even know what they'll do to him?" he asked.

"As if I don't. I even know it happened to him before. I know everything about the Stargate Project."

"You mean, everything your company knows. Who are they again?"

Monroe shook his head. "I've done my job. And for that, I won't be sent to some big, dark government hole. My people will get me out."

Gibbs chuckled. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." He crossed his own arms. "These Stargate people seem to be a pretty shifty bunch. I think they're planning on leaving you on some barren moon somewhere."

For the first time Monroe's composure slipped. Then he grinned again. "They wouldn't. My country wouldn't let them."

"You do know that your country is a part of this whole conspiracy, right?" Gibbs asked him. "They'll follow whatever this IOA wants to do with you."

Monroe sneered. "You're lying," he denied and Gibbs laughed.

"Who did you think was involved in this?" he asked. "Just the U.S.? I've been told there's over a dozen countries within this expedition, and most them are vying after your blood since finding out their golden military commander will be exposed to this Iratus DNA because of you."

Monroe shook his head. "It doesn't matter. My people will get me out. We have contacts, people within your government, insiders, who will make sure I am not sent to some barren -."

He was cut off as Gibbs chucked him a black device that he promptly caught. Looking at it with disdain, Monroe held it up. "What the hell is this?"

Gibbs just smiled. "See you up there."

A bright white light filled the room, and seconds later the interview room was empty. Good thing the cameras hadn't been on: Director Shepard had been quite adamant about that, and Gibbs hadn't been about to dissuade her.

High above Earth, in the _Apollo_, the two men reappeared, feet apart. For the moment anyway.

Before Monroe could even look around, let alone ask what the hell was going on, two strong hands had grabbed the back of his shirt and slammed him into the nearest wall.

Gibbs watched, uncomfortable with not intervening, as Monroe slid down the metal wall of the _Apollo_'s emptied mess hall. Ronon seemed to be having no qualms though, as he loomed over the shaken, overwhelmed scientist, his face still, his eyes spitting fire. His knuckles cracked into fists, and Monroe flinched, before looking over at Gibbs, arrogance gone in the face of terror.

"You're not allowed to do this!" the scientist cried, glancing back quickly at Ronon as the alien smiled wide, though it didn't seem to touch his eyes at all.

Gibbs shrugged. "I'm not. My good friend Ronon is."

Monroe scrambled away frantically. "Earth -."

Ronon cut him off. "We're not on Earth," he told the man. "And I'm not from Earth. Earth rules mean exactly squat to me."

Monroe's breathing was coming thick and fast now as he sat on the floor, looking back and forth between Ronon and Gibbs. He tried one last time for defiance. "I'm not helping you!"

Ronon squatted, the move eliciting a flinch from the cowering man, and then leaned forward. "Not yet you're not. But the quicker you do, the easier it will be for you."

Monroe half-heartedly shook his head. "They'll know. They'll know I talked. They'll kill me if you don't."

Ronon laughed, and Monroe flinched again as the Satedan cut off suddenly. "_They_ won't know a thing. Even if you don't talk, _they_ are never going to see you again." Suddenly he looked around at Gibbs. "Exactly how much atmosphere is there on your moon?"

"You wouldn't?" Monroe gasped, eyes wide with anxiety now. He looked about to hyperventilate, used to the comfort of his own country, and of America, not prepared for the type of tactics he saw in movies, the type of tactics all too common in the Pegasus Galaxy.

"Well, I wouldn't," Gibbs admitted, while Ronon grinned toothily. "But he would. You see, you helped kidnap his commanding officer."

Ronon growled. "John Sheppard's a good man," he snarled at Monroe. "If he is hurt in any way… well, I'm sure your moon will be very understanding. Accommodating… probably not so much. But understanding, for sure."

Monroe shook his head, and, with another growl, Ronon picked him up from his shirt and slammed him into the wall of the mess hall. Monroe cried out in pain, and Gibbs reminded himself of the danger DiNozzo was in. Ronon didn't need any reminders, leaning in close until his nose was inches from Monroe's face.

"Tell me where you sent my friend?" Ronon spat, demanded, ordered, his voice hard and cold. "Tell me who you work for or I swear I will get the captain of this ship to beam you out into space."

"I don't know!" Monroe cried, desperate, certain that the big man was not lying. "They didn't tell me!"

"You didn't know who you were working for?" he demanded, aware of Gibbs turning away and pressing a hand to his ear where his radio was, talking into it, looking pissed.

Monroe shook his head, oblivious to anything else. "No… A company… an international pharm-."

Suddenly Gibbs was by his side, a hand on Ronon's bulging muscles. "It doesn't matter," the agent suddenly told them, his own hard eyes on Monroe. "That was McGee. They found out the company. And it looks like some of Monica's information narrowed it down. We don't need his information."

Ronon grinned and let the man go, who was looking at them, the knowledge of what exactly that meant dawning on his pale, sweat-streaked face. "No! I can still help. Please, don't send me to some moon. I swear, I can still help."

But Ronon backed away, amusement plastered all over his composed features. "We don't need you anymore, Monroe," the Satedan told him. "But if Sheppard and DiNozzo are alive… maybe we'll find some abandoned planet rather than a moon."

And then they were out the door, the barrier sliding shut with and ominous bang, and Monroe lay on the floor still, horrified beyond comprehension.

* * *

Ronon turned to Gibbs as soon as they left the mess hall and a quivering scientist heaped on the ground. "What did McGee have to say?" he asked.

"They found out who the company is. He didn't say much more, except to ask us to come to the bridge." He paused at an intersection and then looked up at the alien man. "Which is which way?"

Within moments Ronon had led them onto the bridge, where McKay and Teyla were waiting with Ellis, McGee and Ziva. His team mates looked anxious, though he figured that with Teyla, only he would know. Rodney, on the other hand, portrayed his anxiety for everyone to see.

"Finally," he cried as he spotted the tall shadow of the Satedan, and Gibbs' smaller figure behind him. "Come on, we're on the clock here."

Unable but to glance at the sight of Earth rotating slowly beneath – or was it above? – them, Gibbs tore his gaze away to scowl at the fidgeting scientist. McKay backed down slightly under the withering stare, and then moved away, towards some screens on the far side of the bridge.

"Uh, I -."

"We," McGee cut in. "We managed to find a camera across the street from the warehouse where Sheppard and Tony were ambushed."

"Yes, okay, we," McKay allowed. "The what and everything is very complicated, but the short story – and we definitely need short stories under these circumstances – the short story is that we know the company which is behind the experiments."

"And who would that be?"

McKay grinned and clicked a remote so a logo came up on the screen. "Ripley Pharmaceuticals. It's a multi-national pharmaceutical company that specializes in advanced genetic therapies and things like that. It was founded ten years ago by the now incredibly wealthy Devin Ripley, a graduate -."

"We don't need to know." Gibbs cut in. "Do you know where they took our people?"

"Sort of," McKay allowed. "We were able to pin point several of their labs and factories and things like that, but there are four addresses in the District of Columbia alone. Another eight in Maryland and Virginia. Which wasn't good, until Teyla and Ziva brought up their information."

"Monica heard them say something about a shipment due at eleven am yesterday," Ziva explained. "That narrowed it down to two places, a lab in D.C. and a complex in Virginia."

"That is," Gibbs said suddenly, thinking of something. "Assuming they took DiNozzo and Sheppard to one of their own addresses."

McKay looked surprised. "Oh no, they definitely did." At the man's curious look he shrugged. "They said so, in those data entries about actually getting Sheppard. They said they would take him back to one of their labs. It just didn't say where, obviously."

"We don't have time to search them both," Ronon reminded them, bringing them back on track. Gibbs shook his head in agreement.

"No we don't. But Dr Monroe seems much more agreeable to helping now," the older agent told him. "Why don't you fetch him."

Ronon, rather than baulk at the order, grinned evilly and nodded, before heading off. McGee turned to McKay, curious about something.

"I don't get one thing," he said.

McKay rolled his eyes. "Just one?"

The probie scowled. "If this Stargate Program is such a big secret, how did Ripley Pharmaceuticals find out about?"

McKay shrugged. "Not sure. It's possible they were connected in some way to the Trust, and when that went down somehow managed to avoid detection." At the blank glances, he seemed to jump. "Oh the Trust are… you know what, never mind, we don't have time to go into every detail of the program's history. But more likely they decided some of the plants they were getting from other worlds were distinctly un-Earthly and decided to investigate."

"Wait, this company was receiving things from other worlds?" Gibbs demanded, looking at his team.

"Yeah, it's been an issue before," McKay told him, with a shrug. "But it's not like the United States Air Force can take credit for everything that comes out of the Stargate without raising suspicion. Especially when it has to do with the medicinal qualities of some plant. And it's not like our people don't check it out first, make sure it's not dangerous, or too alien."

Ronon returned just then, a haggard looking Monroe clutched and practically held upright in one tight grip. The scientist was shaking as he came onto the bridge, even more so when he looked out the window and found Earth. He turned to the group crowded around the captain's seat.

"Please don't put me on the moon!"

McKay scowled. "What have you been doing to him, Ronon?" he demanded, before catching his team mate's eye. "Oh," he began in a fumbling attempt to cover in case Monroe started getting confident again. "Oh. Wow, you uh, you get uh… vicious when someone's in trouble, don't you? Bring him over here."

Ronon shoved the man forward again, past the group over to the screens. Then he leaned in. "Which one?"

Monroe looked at the screen and then at Ronon. "I… I don't…"

"Which one is Sheppard at?" Ronon demanded slowly, hissing, and even McKay was ready to wet himself. He seriously hoped he never got on this man's bad side.

Monroe seemed to sag, his shaking stopping as he gave in, defeated and cracked. "You have to protect me," he muttered, though he sounded as if he didn't believe they would keep any promise to do so. "You can't let them kill me."

"There won't be much of them left if you do," Ronon promised brutally. "But there won't be much left of you if you don't."

Sighing, Monroe accepted it and lifted his hand, pointing to the small dot located in Virginia. "There. That one."

"Why that one?" McKay demanded. Monroe shrugged, or as much as he could while Ronon held his arm in a rock solid grip.

"It's practically a fortress," Monroe told them. "It's not just a factory, it's Ripley's compound. There's a few warehouses. And a lab, with a hive of underground buildings shielded from any sensors. It's incredibly high-tech. And they told me they were taking Sheppard to the other one. I have no doubt they were lying in case they thought I'd…"

Ronon grinned. "Crack?" he supplied, before beckoning at a marine. "Take him to the brig."

The marine nodded and took custody of the limp scientist, while Ronon and McKay turned to the others. Ellis spoke up for the first time.

"I can beam you outside the compound," he told them, looking each person over. "I'll also mobilise every unit of marines on board. But I can't sense anything underground, so if that guy is telling the truth, I won't be able to beam you out of there if things go wrong. I won't even be able to hear you on the radio."

"It doesn't matter."

McKay, Ronon and Gibbs all said it at the same time, and all gave each other strange looks. McKay continued.

"It doesn't matter," he repeated. "Sheppard's first rule. You don't leave people behind."

Ellis nodded, accepting that. "Okay then. Go gear up."

* * *

Who's up for a rescue?


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** You know, 21 reviews for a chapter is a really awesome birthday present, thank you!

And now for the bad news (I guess)... This is the third last chapter. Only two more after this one! Oh, and I'll try, but I doubt I'll be able to post tomorrow night, working til late... I'll see how I go, kay?

All rightey then, down to business. All those who were up for the rescue...

CHARGE!

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Chapter 12:

The door to the cell slammed open in the silent room, making the two prisoners jump to their feet as men flooded them, guns up. Minutes later Sheppard and DiNozzo were back on their knees, hands pulled roughly down behind their backs once again, the thought of escape inches from the front of their mind. But their captor's threat was still clear in their ears, and however much both men wanted to fight back, they allowed themselves to be cuffed.

Sheppard grunted as he was pulled up and out the door, looking back to find DiNozzo receiving the same rough treatment. "What the hell is he coming for?"

The guard grinned toothily at him. "Incentive."

The pilot scowled, but couldn't do anything, those nerves in his gut tightening. Two days that guy had said. His people could still find them in two days. He just wished they would find them now.

This time they went in the opposite direction, towards an elevator at the near end of the corridor. The doors opened almost straight away after one of the guards pressed the button, and Sheppard was shoved inside the small lift.

Even as half the guards circled him, Sheppard began thinking that now was his chance. Escape plans began whirling around his head, two discarded before the doors had even closed. If he could just get his hands to the front, he could –

A fist impacted with his stomach, and he grunted, falling to his knees as all air left his lungs. The guards surrounding him laughed, even as the big guy before him pulled his fist back and struck Sheppard across the face, hard. He fell to the ground, slightly dazed, even as the elevator doors pinged open.

The man in the suit stood there, not happy to find Sheppard on the ground. The guards shrugged. "He was thinking about making a break for it."

Sheppard heaved himself to his knees, though with his hands bound, it took some effort. He looked up at the suit.

"Was not," he spat childishly. "Your boys just like hitting people."

The suit obviously didn't believe him. "Get him up," the man ordered. "And is the agent near the isolation room?"

The guard who has spoken before nodded, leaving two others to haul Sheppard to his feet. "Irvine's just putting him into place now."

The pilot growled. "You hurt him and I will make your life a living hell," he promised, not wanting the other man to die because of him.

The suit just smiled. "Don't cause any trouble, and he'll live to fight another day," he said, though it sent shivers down Sheppard's spine. There was something about this guy. Something cold, and nasty. It didn't bode well for him or DiNozzo.

But Sheppard didn't say a word, just allowed himself to be hauled down the corridor at a steady pace. He had no idea how much closer to the surface he was – in fact, if he hadn't felt the movement in the elevator, he might have believed they were on the exact same level. Everything looked the same, from the walls to the code the man in the suit punched into the lock on the door.

This time Sheppard kept all smart comments to himself.

The guard forced him into the large room and Sheppard looked around, not liking where this was going. Because the room was a lab. Of sorts. It looked like a cross between a lab and a hospital room. Computers and instruments lined the walls, cameras in various positions around the room, on the walls, over the bed it was all centred on. The bed with restraints.

"Ah, you sure you're ready for this?" Sheppard asked them nervously, pulling his guards to a halt. "Sure you don't want to run some more tests or something?"

The guards growled and began dragging him forward. Beginning to lose it slightly, Sheppard fought against them, the urges to fight and protect battling it out inside of him.

"No, I changed my mind, I don't need boobs."

The guy in the suit growled this time, and the guards invested all their strength into pulling the pilot towards the bed. His feet slid along the ground.

"This isn't going to help you!" Sheppard warned, still fighting. Sorry, but DiNozzo be damned, he wasn't going to turn into one of those things again. "You can change me all you want, but the Michael experiment was too much of a catastrophe for anyone to do it again!"

"That is where you are wrong," the suit told him, leaning against a nearby table. "Maybe the United States won't accept it, but there are plenty of countries out there who will."

Sheppard shook his head, leaning back as far as he could, though with his weight, at least compared to the brawny guards, it didn't do much. "You're not going to get away with this," he spat, looking wildly at the man just watching as he fought tooth and nail not to be experimented on. "The SGC will find you, and they'll lock you away in some dark hole on some cold moon where no one will be able to get you."

The suit waved his hand. "I highly doubt that. We took precautions. They have no idea who we are. Or where you are. And even if they did, I have companies in over half a dozen other countries." His gaze narrowed. "Now stop struggling, or I will put the agent in with the marine."

Sheppard snarled at him. "His name's DiNozzo you bastard. And you know what, screw you!"

He barely had the words out before something blunt hit him over the back of the head and he collapsed into darkness.

* * *

They beamed down into various squads around the compound they had narrowed their search down to. They being Gibbs' team, Ronon, Teyla and McKay and 60 odd marines that Colonel Ellis had managed to scrounge up.

Obviously this time Gibbs had no issue with looking over someone's shoulder, because he had Ziva and McGee with him, accompanied by three marines. They were at the north side of the Virginia complex, while on the other side, the Atlantis team, as well as another three marines, prepared to cut the fence to the south.

The entrance to the west was being taken care of – quickly and stealthily – by half the units of marines, while another five units were stationed around various points in the fence, prepared to cut their way in just like the investigators.

McKay stood behind Ronon as he worked on the wire, trying to avoid the lights of the security towers. At least they wouldn't have to worry about cameras – McKay, with only a little help from McGee, had managed to infiltrate the security system, at least on the fence, and set the cameras on a loop. What could you say, apparently they were evil doctors, not technological geniuses.

But there was little they could do about the human side of things, and the men atop the security towers would pose a big risk to the success of this mission. Or they would before the last unit of marines swooped in to take care of them from above.

Ronon finally gave a cry of success and pulled the wire back, opening a hole large enough for him to duck through. Grinning back at his team mates, he brought the radio to his mouth. "We're ready."

"Us too," Gibbs' voice came through. Slowly, another five calls of readiness came over the radio, and Ronon brought the radio to his mouth again.

"West team, take care of business. Fence teams, we're on."

Fastening the radio back to his vest – which looked rather small on him, despite it being the largest size they had – he pulled out his gun, happy he didn't have to use Earth guns anymore, and set it to stun. Then he looked back at Rodney and Teyla again.

"Let's go get him."

The Satedan ducked through a fence, and Teyla wasn't far behind him. McKay followed her, and the three marines brought up the rear. They all fanned out, Rodney taking a place between his two team mates. The ground was dark and hard, concreted, the way barely illuminated by the spotlights that swept across the ground in random patterns.

Not that that mattered anymore, Ronon noticed as he glanced up at one of the towers to see a man waving a smaller torch. The marines had moved silently into place, taking out any guards in those towers and leaving the way clear for the teams to reach the building with underground access.

To McKay's surprise, they reached the wall quickly and with no resistance. The outside of the compound was now littered with marines, their M16s high against shoulders, lights off for now.

They reached the front doors at the same time as Gibbs and his team, flanking the double barriers. Another marine came up with what Rodney could only call a portable battering ram.

They didn't say anything; Ronon and Gibbs, both closest to the door, nodded at each other and then the marine came up, ready. The battering ram took only a matter of seconds before the doors crashed open and they were in.

McKay took a deep breath as he rushed in after Ronon, sure they were at the right place when the lab turned out to be empty of anything but dust-covered tables. No instruments, no microscopes, no coats or lights or anything Rodney recognised from his own lab.

They fanned out again, but the room was empty: no guards, no scientists, though it was night now. Even if the lab had been in use – which it clearly wasn't – there wouldn't be anyone at work now.

Lowering his P90 slightly, McKay looked around, switching on the light atop it when he noticed a few marines doing the same. But while the others searched for an entrance to the underground complex, McKay swept his light along the lines where roof met wall, looking for…

He gave a groan. "They know we're here," he called out, finding a camera that he hadn't when creating the loop. Ronon came to stand beside him, looking up at the device. Then he shrugged, lifted his arm and took out the camera with a blast from his gun.

"Doesn't matter. They're not getting out." He looked down at McKay, his eyes giving the promise. "Come on. We found the entrance. We've nearly got him back."

* * *

Sheppard woke with a start, sitting straight up. Or straight up as much as he could when his wrists were tied down. And his ankles. Dammit, they had knocked him out and restrained him!

He laid back down and looked around, finding no people in the room with him. He did, however, lay his eyes on two things. A large screen, divided into two – on one side, the marine hybrid, pacing in the isolation room, on the other, DiNozzo, hands bound behind his back, two armed guards watching him carefully. A not so subtle reminder.

The other thing that caught his eye was the camera watching him, across the room, its sights set firmly on the bed, watching him as he had slept.

He had barely been awake a minute when the door clicked, and the suit walked in. "So glad to see you awake, Colonel. I was afraid for a moment that we would have to do this while you were unconscious."

He was followed by a man and a woman in lab coats. Sheppard watched them carefully, pulling as hard as he could on the wrist restraints. It showed, and the suit chuckled.

"You can't get away, Colonel," the man told him, leaning back against a bench. "Even if you did somehow manage to get out of those restraints – and I highly doubt you can – there's a whole army of guards between here and the exit. And I seriously doubt you could get to Agent _DiNozzo_ before my men shoved him in with that marine."

"I told you before," Sheppard told him. "No one will ever listen to you if you do this."

The suit shrugged. "We will see, Colonel. Now please, don't resist."

Sheppard looked at him like he was mad. "Don't resist, my ass!" he snapped, dividing his attention between the suit and the scientists. "Don't do this!"

The suit didn't answer, and the woman turned around, dragging an IV stand over with her. The man followed soon after, a bag of cloudy grey liquid in his hands.

Sheppard couldn't help it. He flinched away, leaning as far away as he could while his hands were restrained. It was a useless gesture, and the condescending smiles of both scientists told him that they knew it. The woman took the bag from the man, while he leaned in, towards Sheppard, grabbing his arm and yanking it straight, so the smooth flesh of the inner elbow was freed for the needle he held in one hand.

Sheppard's heart was going a million miles an hour. Give him bombs, Wraith, weapons firing everywhere, a downed man in the middle of a hostile country/planet/galaxy, he could do it, no sweat. But the thought of losing himself in those violent instincts again… it was almost more than he could handle.

He looked up at the prepared scientist, eyes wide. "Don't do this."

It was a plea, and they all knew it. The scientist just smiled that patronizing smile, and ignored the beg.

"It won't hurt for long, I promise."

Sheppard snarled, hating that he had been reduced to begging. Not only that, but these bastards weren't even listening. "How the hell would you know?" he demanded. "Have you taken your own freak experiment? Do you even know what it's like?"

The scientist broke eye contact and took a tighter hold just above the pilot's elbow. "I don't need to. I'm the brains. You're the guinea pig."

"Well, now that we're not mincing words," Sheppard snapped. "Let me go, you son of a bitch, or I'll break your neck!"

The scientist ignored him and the needle dipped lower, the scientist having found a suitable vein. Sheppard struggled, flinching away, but the man was strong, and he kept the arm steady.

"No!" Sheppard cried, trying, desperate to get away, but it was useless. "Don't do that!"

The needle touched his skin and still the scientist ignored him, digging deep, making Sheppard wince, and his stomach –

He wasn't the only one to jump when alarms started blaring. The three people with him were startled as well, and they looked up and around, as if anything in this room could explain the reason why the alarms and red flashing lights were going off. The suit stood up straight, scowling.

"Someone's found us," he told everyone, moving to the door. "Leave that for now. We need to get out of here."

As the suit opened the door, Sheppard collapsed with relief. "Thank God," he muttered as the man removed the needle, earning a scowl from both scientists. He just glared right back at them, and then looked around as two guards entered the room. The suit had disappeared.

Sheppard got why they were there straight away. "You know, you can leave me here," he told them. "My friends should be able to find me, even this far underground. You should run while you have the chance."

One of the guards pulled out his Beretta. "Either you come with us now, or I put a bullet in your skull. How would your friends like to find that?"

Sheppard almost considered it. He watched the guard, trying to determine how serious he was. And then decided the man was very serious. Which meant the suit knew the game was up. And he wasn't about to leave evidence behind.

"Well, if you insist," he muttered, laying as still as he could while the scientists undid the restraints. One of the guards chucked him a pair of cuffs when they were done. "Put those on."

He did as ordered, and then slid out of the bed, hands up in a non-threatening manner. The two guards grabbed his upper arms, and then hauled him out of the room, the scientists close behind.

Out in the corridor they met up with others. Other guards, and scientists, looks of panic and annoyance on various faces. Sheppard ignored them searching for DiNozzo among the faces – neither he nor the marine hybrid had been on that screen when he had been dragged from the room. But he couldn't see the agent, or the marine, and he could only hope that the suit hadn't ordered either of them killed.

They started in the opposite direction to the elevator, and soon Sheppard spotted some stairs. He had assumed they would head for the surface, and try to bargain or shoot their way out, but apparently these people had other ideas. It was only the rough hold the guards had on him that stopped him from falling down the stairs with the quick pace they took descending.

The suit met them down three levels, and Sheppard heaved a sigh of relief to see DiNozzo, apparently unhurt except a few bruises forming on his face. The hybrid was there as well, carefully restrained and leashed, looking miserable and pissed. Sheppard tried not to get too close to it.

"Move it!" the suit cried, looking at some kind of monitor in his hand. Sheppard's heart flipped as he spotted Ronon's dreads just in the picture. He knew it, knew it had been them, and couldn't help but chuckle.

"You'll need to move quicker if you want to get away from Ronon," he told them, earning a rough shove. "He's the best damn tracker I know. And if he catches you… well, hope you like surprises."

The suit just growled and walked faster. Sheppard chuckled, stumbling slightly as the guard pushed him again.

They reached an intersection and turned, and at the end Sheppard could see an elevator. A larger one, like a freight elevator, able to hold most of them at once. Well, he didn't like where this was going.

And apparently, neither did the hybrid. With a sudden roar, the altered marine stopped, jerking the guard holding his leash back. Everyone stopped, a little stunned, and so no one could move fast enough when the hybrid's muscles suddenly bulged.

Ripping leather seemed to echo about the room, and then the marine was free, spreading his feet, showing off his claws and giving a loud shriek in the bowels of the suit's complex.

Sheppard backed away, pulling his guards with him – they didn't fight it. He knew. Knew before the marine hybrid even moved, knew before it even began…

This was bad.

And then it shrieked again, and all that anger and barbaric ferocity was there for everyone to see. Everyone backed away, hands going to guns, but Sheppard knew. Knew they weren't going to be fast enough.

And he was proven right as it lunged. Right for DiNozzo.

* * *

So what do you think... Special review for my birthday? Or even for that cliffhanger... sorry!


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** OK, so I managed to get in a post! I figured you'd rather a chapter than replies to all your awesome reviews! So I'll say thanks now, and here's the next chapter! Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go cut my feet off cause they're freaking sore after last night's shenanigans...

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Chapter 13:

Tony barely had time to realize the thing was free before it was coming at him.

He swore under his breath, and tried to make a run for it, but his guards were in the way, blocking all his escape routes as they made their own getaway, leaving him, the guy with his hands tied behind his back, to deal with the big scary monster.

The blow knocked all wind from him as it impacted into his chest, and he cried out, flying back into the wall with a force that could probably be counted as deadly in a car crash. He hit the wall with a bounce and a pop, and he cried out again as his shoulder fell out of place.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he rolled over, unable to help the slight groan as he moved his dislocated joint, to find the hybrid standing over him.

And _that_ was when they decided to open fire.

DiNozzo cringed and made his body as small as possible as gunfire filled the corridor. The hybrid jerked with the impacts, but somehow, didn't go down. No, it gave that horrible shriek again as everyone realized their bullets weren't doing anything, the sound making DiNozzo's hair stand on end. And then it loomed down on him, those nails uncharacteristically long as it reached down for the kill.

And then something crashed into it, and the thing was gone from Tony's sight. He uncurled himself, pushing himself away with his feet, looking around to see what had happened.

The hybrid was back on its feet, but the thing that had barrelled into it wasn't. For some reason, DiNozzo wasn't surprised to see it was now Sheppard who was the one at its mercy.

Or something like that. The agent should have known the pilot well enough by now to know the guy had tricks up his sleeve. And even as he lay there, at the feet of the marine hybrid, everyone else apparently just content to watch, DiNozzo saw a grim look of determination come over his face.

The hybrid leaned down, and Sheppard bunched his stomach muscles, lifting his legs to give it a hard double kick in the marine's gut. The hybrid actually grunted, and took two or three steps back. But it was enough time for Sheppard to get to his feet.

But not enough time for anything else. Just as he stumbled to his bare feet, the hybrid stumbled into Sheppard. Or tried to. The pilot, apparently aware of the danger he was in, twisted deftly to the side, and instead the marine stumbled into a clustered group of guards and scientists.

They scattered, or tried to, and, in a frenzy, the hybrid took the bait of movement like a hawk, lashing out with long nails and inhuman strength. Blood flew, screams started, and DiNozzo got to his feet, sure he should help.

Obviously Sheppard didn't discern between good guys and bad guys when he was in protector mode either. Being closer, he reached the group first, and, being stupidly heroic, reached in to grab the hybrid by its set of scrubs. With a strength that belied his size, Sheppard pulled the marine back hard enough to send it sprawling to the floor.

Everyone in that direction backed off, able to see now what the hybrid had done to those lying on the floor, still bleeding. The needn't have bothered. The hybrid still retained some sense of intelligence. Enough to know who its greatest threat was.

Sheppard swallowed as it lay cold, hard, but strangely human eyes on him.

The hybrid got to his feet, slowly, surely, eyes never leaving Sheppard. The pilot knew this could never end well, but it didn't look like he was going to get any help from anyone. He knew the only person who would have helped him was DiNozzo, who was quite obviously in pain from a quite obviously dislocated shoulder.

Sheppard brought his eyes back to the hybrid, and then ducked – the damn thing had snuck silently up to him while he was distracted and had proceeded to lash out with his claws.

So he ducked, and the hybrid, apparently still retaining its marine instincts, drove a hard fist up under Sheppard's jaw. He tried to move out of the way, but the blow still clipped him, his teeth still clicked uncomfortably together, and he still went flying a few feet into the air to land hard on his back, thinking he was lucky not to have broken anything.

The hybrid was suddenly over him, and Sheppard had to forget everything about luck as it leaned down to grab him.

He kicked out, and the top of his foot made a resounding clap in the silent corridor as it hit the thing's head. The hybrid was knocked away, and Sheppard rolled in the opposite direction, getting to his feet easily. The hybrid came at him quickly again, letting loose with a swing and nails that Sheppard blocked.

Sort of. His cuffed hands met its wrist, but the thing was so strong that the motion just ploughed back into him, and he went flying again, crashing hard into the wall. The hybrid, for some strange reason, didn't suffer the same sudden dizziness that Sheppard did, and rushed for its downed opponent.

And all Sheppard could do was watch.

Watch as the marine came at him. Watch as the hybrid prepared to kill him, watch as it went over possible scenarios in its mind, the bloodlust visible in its eyes. Watch as something entered the field of his vision, aimed for the…

Sheppard jumped as DiNozzo repaid the debt and barrelled into the hybrid just as it was leaning in for a last strike, sending them both sprawling to the ground, the agent on top. With another shriek, the hybrid kicked at him, and Tony went flying backwards, landing awkwardly, but thankfully, on a group of scientists who managed to break his fall.

But even that hadn't managed to distract the hybrid from its goal, and once again, it set its eyes on Sheppard.

Swallowing again, he turned onto his stomach, crawling forward and away. He could hear it stomping after him, feet loud in the expectant corridor, and Sheppard couldn't help but wonder why no one else was trying to help him, or shoot it, or even taser it.

Taser!

Thinking fast, Sheppard changed direction and headed for the nearest downed guard, only a few feet away. He shuffled quickly along the floor, not easy when his hands were cuffed, though luckily they were cuffed in front of him. Three feet, two feet, just one more foot…

He cried out as claws ripped into his lower back, creating deep gashes on his side. He turned over, the skin ripping more as the hybrids claws retracted from him, and worked through the pain and sudden warmth spreading down his back and side, lifting his arms and slamming a double fist into the close marine. The thing fell down, to the side, and Sheppard rolled back over, breathing heavily as he reached the now-dead guard, grabbed the taser and turned onto his back, sweat creating a sheen on his forehead.

The hybrid was just coming at him again as he pulled the trigger on the taser. There was no way he was about to miss, and he didn't. The hybrid collapsed in mid-jump as the jolt it hit. It fell awkwardly, sprawling on the floor near Sheppard's legs, and didn't move when the taser stopped clicking.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Sheppard dropped his arms and the taser, leaning back and closing his eyes. A second, single click made him open them again, and he gave a groan at seeing the barrel of a Beretta aimed at him.

"You've got to be kidding me!" he cried as two guards hauled him to unsteady feet. "We just saved all your asses. The least you could do is let us go."

The suit suddenly appeared, his face pale but still determined. "On the contrary, Colonel. Now we have to start all over again. And you just proved yourself a fine specimen."

Sheppard growled. "Then at least let DiNozzo go," he told them, allowing himself to be hauled away. Truthfully there wasn't much he could do to stop it. His back was killing him, he was still bleeding, and he was exhausted. "You don't need him."

The suit seemed to think about that for a moment. "No," he finally decided. "No, we need the both of you now. It won't be easy setting up again."

Three things happened at once. Suddenly the corridor was filled, once again, with the sounds of guns being cocked. He turned around, or the guard turned him around, just in time to hear a deep, familiar voice growl.

"It won't be easy doing anything where you're going."

The third thing was that the guard holding him twisted him around, and brought the gun up against his head, holding the injured pilot tight against his chest, while another did the same with DiNozzo, eliciting a cry of pain from the agent.

And then Sheppard heaved a sigh of relief, despite his current situation – aka, being held hostage now – because the reason that voice was so familiar was because it belonged to his good friend Ronon.

* * *

McKay had to admit, things weren't looking good.

Somehow they had made it down here with minimal resistance, and only a few dead bodies lay between here and the surface. In time with another group of marines, they had systematically made their way down level by level, finding various rooms, labs, cells, all empty. It was only around the stairwells that the resistance seemed to come, loyal guards giving their employer time to escape with his prizes.

Well, by the looks of things, that whole escape thing hadn't gone according to plan. They hadn't seen it, but as McKay ducked out from behind Ronon, taking in the scene – dead guards and scientists, the fallen, unconscious marine in scrubs, a pale, shaking DiNozzo, and a bleeding Sheppard, also in scrubs – it was pretty obvious what had happened.

The marines fanned out across the corridor, sights set on various pockets of guards mingled with scientists. But they weren't about to fire. Not when two guards were holding the men they were here to rescue hostage.

And Devin Ripley hiding out behind them all.

"Hey, guys," Sheppard breathed, even as the guard jammed the gun against his head. "Nice of you to turn up."

The guards took two steps back and the marines moved swiftly, taking two steps forward. McKay suddenly found himself flanked by men in uniform. And Ronon and Teyla, of course. And he was sure Gibbs and his team was around somewhere.

"I wouldn't move, Ripley," Ronon called. "You're surrounded. Might as well give up."

Ripley snorted from behind the guard holding onto Sheppard. "You even think about opening fire, and he'll blow your colonel's brains out."

As if to emphasize that, the guard shoved the gun against Sheppard's head a little harder, and the pilot winced, arms moving against the tight one held around his chest.

Ronon's grip shifted on his gun. McKay could almost see what was thinking. He could stun someone, but he doubted he could get more than one round off. But who to stun? Sheppard was the most obvious choice, but if Ronon – and McKay – knew their commander at all, the pilot would tell them – order them – to save DiNozzo first. And of course, he could always take out Ripley, but then would the guards kill their hostages in retaliation, out of loyalty, or spite?

So Ronon did what Ronon did best, and growled, shifting his grip once more. "This entire complex is surrounded by marines, Ripley," he told the millionaire. "You're not going to be able to get out of here, hostages or no hostages."

"We'll see," the man spat back, tapping the guard he was hiding behind on the back, and moving towards the elevator. Ronon took one step forward, torn.

And that was when Gibbs finally decided to turn up, flanked by Ziva and McGee. "And where are you going to go, Ripley?" the older agent asked.

Sheppard's jaw dropped, and he looked – out of all the choices – at Rodney. "You let them in on this?" he demanded. "Who the hell agreed to that?"

McKay shrugged, never dropping his P90 from the group of guards he was aiming at, though to be honest, he had never killed another human being before, at least on purpose. They were always Wraith or Replicators or other numerous bad guys throughout the galaxy. He didn't want to start now.

"General O'Neill was convinced they would be… beneficial." He shrugged again. "Hey, you were the one who said they could have been useful."

Sheppard scowled at him. "Yeah, but you didn't have to tell them -."

He cut off in a grunt as the guard gave him a jerk, wincing at the movement in his back. Ripley peeked out slightly from behind his human shield, moving back still towards the now open elevator doors.

"This is nice and all," Ripley told them with a sneer. "But I think you should all back up a bit. Unless you want your people to have a coupe of extra holes in their heads."

None of them moved. There was a tense moment of silence before the man holding DiNozzo cocked his gun. When no one still moved, Sheppard growled.

"Do as he says," he ordered, still managing to bring authority to his voice despite the situation. "Just a few steps, everyone."

Ronon shifted his grip once more and took the tiniest step back. McKay followed, and soon they had all moved back a few feet. Ripley nodded, still hidden.

"Nice to see you still listen to him. Now, you're all going to watch us get in this elevator…"

His words faded in Ronon's ears as he watched Sheppard catch his eyes. The colonel made sure Ronon was listening, or at least, watching carefully, before flitting his eyes sideways to DiNozzo, who was being dragged back just the same as the pilot. The message was clear.

Ronon shook his head, just slightly, more of a sideways motion of his eyes than anything. Sheppard scowled, and nodded slightly, even as he was pulled back, his feet dragging slightly in the ground.

They were nearly at the elevator now. Sheppard nodded again, and Ronon growled, hefting his gun up to aim. But still, he faltered.

Sheppard growled out loud as well, and he leaned forward in the restrain of the burly guard. "Do it!"

The marines took a step forward as their colonel inched closer to the elevator entrance, making sure the pockets of guards and scientists knew if they moved, they would be shot. But there was little they could do about the two guards holding their people.

Sheppard growled again, louder. "Dammit, Ronon, do it!"

And then, as Sheppard passed beyond the elevator doors, Ronon changed aim and pulled the trigger. The bright red blast hit DiNozzo, who went rigid before falling. The guard couldn't take the whole weight of the tall agent, and let him drop, bringing up the gun to fire at the men and women filling the corridor. He didn't even get to pull the trigger before both Ziva and McGee had plugged a round each in him, and Ronon swept the gun's aim back to Sheppard.

But it was too late. He pulled the trigger as the elevator doors closed and the red blast struck the impenetrable barrier. And then the elevator was gone, with Sheppard inside it.

* * *

Uh oh...

One more chapter to go!


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Oh wow, the last chapter!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! This story has been the best supported of any I've ever written, and that means so much, so thanks!

Anyways, here's the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy it

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Chapter 14:

The freight elevator seemed far too big with only three of them in it. As the doors closed, separating him from his rescuers, Sheppard heaved a sigh of relief, glad that at least DiNozzo was safe. Now these guys didn't have anything to use against him.

The guard and… what had Ronon called the suit. Ripley. The guard and Ripley seemed to realize it too, and the guard let him loose, pushing him back and down against the wall.

Relieved to be sitting, Sheppard slid down the shiny wall, uncaring that it put pressure on his bleeding back. The guard's stomach was covered in his blood anyway. That couldn't be good.

Then again, neither was the gun the guard was still aiming at his forehead. The man wasn't moving his eyes from the pilot, making sure he didn't pull any stunts. Ripley was pacing, his face pinched tight with frustration. Sheppard dared to give a small chuckle.

"What you going to do now?" he asked. "Marines have this place surrounded. You're not going to escape."

"I will if they want the chance to rescue you again," Ripley spat, not pausing in his pacing.

Sheppard shifted slightly on the floor, ignoring the gun in his face. "Yeah, but do you still have the information for your little project?" he asked. "Or did one of your scientists have that disk?"

Ripley sneered at him. "I have other facilities that have the research we have made. I can still continue my work, and you are still going to become a mindless killing machine, whether you like it or not."

Sheppard smiled cockily, not about to tell them that if they didn't slow the bleeding in his back any time soon he wasn't going to become anything but dead. "If you're still sure…" he muttered, looking up at the guard. "So, what's the plan?"

Ripley gave a roar, all his frustration coming to bear. Not only stopping, but turning in his pacing, he let a foot swing the pilot's way. Sheppard didn't even have a chance to move or twist, and the toe of the suit's boot struck his ribs under his arm. Hard. He grunted, doubling over with the strength, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

Coughing, he struggled to sit up. "Jeez," he wheezed. "Only asking."

Ripley actually screamed. "Shut up!" he yelled, turning back to the pilot. "Shut up!" And he let swing with another kick.

But Sheppard was ready this time. Ignoring potentially broken ribs, he reached out and grabbed the guy's foot before it impacted with his side once more. Not done there, he pulled the limb around. Ripley's face split with shock as he crashed into his own guard, sending them both sprawling to the ground, tangled up in each other.

Sheppard rolled out of the way, though not before he grabbed the gun the guard unwittingly dropped. He stumbled to his feet, slipping slightly with the drops of blood just now reaching his feet, but still managing to bring the gun up to bear. Ripley and his guard, just freed from the other, paused where they were.

"Don't move," Sheppard warned them. He looked around, finding the elevator controls, keeping half an eye on his captors at all times. He cocked the gun for effect before looking back as the guard moved. "I said don't move."

He moved around to the control and saw the light for the second level lit up. He figured it worked a lot like the controls at the SGC. That was underground. He motioned at it. "Where does that take us?"

Ripley scowled defiantly. "Somewhere full of guards," he spat. Sheppard grinned.

"No it doesn't. All the guards would have been taken care of by my people by now."

"Your people can't be that good," Ripley snapped. "He missed you, didn't he."

Sheppard shook his head. "He didn't miss." He pressed the button for the third level with his elbow. "How deep underground are we, exactly?"

Again, three things happened at once. One, out of the corner of his eye, Sheppard saw the guard going for his taser. Bringing his gaze back around to face his captors-turned-captives, Sheppard pulled the trigger, hitting the guard in the hand reaching for the weapon. The man howled with pain but brought the hand to his chest, cradling it as blood poured.

A second later the doors pinged, and opened onto an empty corridor. Sheppard couldn't help but be distracted, turning his head away, needing to make sure that no one that wasn't his people were going to come up on them.

And that was when he spotted Ripley reaching inside his jacket. Sheppard turned back, bringing the gun up, but the suit was surprisingly fast for non-military. And John was feeling weaker and weaker by the minute.

Two shot sang out one after the other, and Sheppard jerked back, the bullet hitting his right shoulder, the impact sending him backwards against the elevator wall as the doors closed once again. The gun dropped from his hand and he grabbed at the bleeding wound as well as he could with cuffed hands, breath coming in hisses against the pain. He slid back to the ground even as Ripley got to his feet, .44 Colt in his hand and pointed at the now helpless colonel.

The suit's face was a cloud of anger, but Sheppard still met it, unafraid. Okay, maybe a little bit afraid, but he wasn't about to show it. Blood was pooling in Ripley's left upper arm, but apparently the bullet had missed anything vital, because the guy was still up and able to threaten Sheppard's life. Again.

"What now?" Sheppard asked from his compromising seat on the ground. "You going to shoot me?"

Ripley scowled. "Was thinking about it?" he snapped. "You ruined me, Colonel."

"Told you it was bad kidnapping me," he said flippantly. "But you refused to listen."

Again, the elevator doors pinged, and then opened, this time on a room rising up two stories. At least from what Sheppard could see with his small view around the corner of the open doors.

Ripley gestured with his gun. "On your feet, colonel."

Gritting his teeth, Sheppard complied, though it wasn't easy, and he had to lean back against the wall before he could stand up straight, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

Ripley gestured towards the elevator doors with his gun. "Move it."

Sheppard scowled at him, holding his bleeding shoulder close as he moved out into the room. And then he stopped, taking in the sight before him. Then he shook his head.

"You've got to be kidding me," he breathed, looking up at the helicopter. He shook his head again and turned around to face Ripley. "Who's flying that for you?" he asked.

"You are. You're flying us both out of here, hot shot."

Sheppard shook his head and told him very simply, "No, I'm not."

Ripley scowled and stepped closer, shortening the range his .44 had to fire. "Yes, you are. I've heard about your abilities."

John scowled and wished people knew something about flying. "No, I am not. You shot me! I can't fly a chopper in this state. It's impossible."

Apparently Ripley didn't believe him. He gestured with the gun again. "Well, then I guess I just shoot you now."

Sheppard had had it. "Well then, I guess you do," he snapped. "Some people are just unbelievable. You kidnap me, threaten to experiment on me, shoot me, and _now_ you want me to help you out of here? I don't think I would even if I weren't injured."

Ripley growled and looked around, looking for some other way to escape, no doubt. Then he stepped aside. "Back in the elevator then."

Sheppard sighed. "You know what, no."

Ripley stared at him. "What?"

"No," Sheppard told him, defiant even as Ripley came and placed the barrel of his .44 at the pilot's head. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm bleeding, near unconscious, tired, in scrubs and bare feet and cold. I am not moving." He gave a grin. "Besides, the elevator disappeared. Went back downstairs."

Ripley's face went pale, and he turned around in time to see the elevator doors open once again. And Sheppard took the opportunity, moving while the man was distracted. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he brought his arms up, wrapping Ripley's gun arm in his own. That got the suit's attention, and he turned around…

In time to accept a furious blow from Sheppard's left elbow.

Ripley dropped like a sack of potatoes, though Ronon's stunner blast probably helped, and Sheppard heaved a sigh of relief, slumping, nearly falling. Five people all but fell out of the elevator, led by Ronon with his gun aimed at the unmoving Ripley. Gibbs and Ziva copied him, though there was no need.

Teyla and McKay, on the other hand, came straight up to Sheppard, dropping their P90s.

"Jesus," McKay muttered, before launching into a usual insensitive or unthinking comment. "Are you okay?"

Sheppard just gave him a look, before shaking his head. "How's DiNozzo?"

"Unconscious," Ziva told him, coming over. "But alive. McGee is with him now, trying not to vomit, no doubt, as they reset his shoulder."

Sheppard nodded, not even laughing at the image. "Good. That's good." And dizziness swamped him, quickly followed by blackness, and he fell, not even feeling the hands grabbing at him, or hearing someone call over the radio for a medic.

* * *

"Tony…"

Someone was calling his name. He wasn't sure who, but they were dragging it out, like they were trying to irritate him. At least there was no feather scratching at his nose or something.

"Tony."

He mumbled something, tried turning away, tried to tell the voice to go away, but he couldn't get his mouth open, which was a strange experience for him. And then something pulled at the back of his hand, and he suddenly realized he hadn't fallen asleep at his desk.

"Tony, wake up."

In fact, the last thing he remembered was red. Which was weird. He thought there would be some pretty pictures, a voice, a smell, a sound. But no. The last thing he remembered was red.

"Now you're just ignoring me."

Well that got his attention. One eye shot open – he couldn't be bothered opening the other – to scowl at Ziva where she stood over him in his bed.

"Am not."

She grinned to see him awake and leaned back – the woman really didn't have any sense of personal space sometimes.

"He's awake," she called out, moving back slightly while DiNozzo forced his other eye open so he could have a proper look around.

Judging by the white wash, the filtered light and the highly sanitized smell, he was in hospital. Which made sense he guessed, especially when the events of the last few days started rushing back. Including what the red was.

"Did he shoot me?"

"If you mean Ronon…" McGee suddenly said as he walked in. "Then yes. Saved your life though."

Tony frowned. "That's funny. I don't feel like I've been shot."

In fact, he felt pretty damn good. Which meant he had to have been on some pretty good drugs, because he had dislocated his shoulder before, and it hurt like hell.

"How long have I been out?" DiNozzo asked before he could help himself. Ziva shrugged.

"A day, or so. The doctors said you were exhausted, dehydrated… not to mention the concussion." Ziva shook her head. "You got banged up pretty good, Tony."

The agent shook his head. "I was lucky," he told them. "They were pretty focused on Sheppard. Speaking of…" He looked around, as if there were a bed hidden somewhere in the private room. "How is he?"

Ziva and McGee shared a dark look and DiNozzo felt his stomach drop. "You did get him back right? Don't tell me Ronon shot me and then let his boss get away?"

"No," McGee answered. "He's safe."

"They didn't turn him into a bug again, did they?" Tony asked, knowing it was the next worse thing. Hell, for Sheppard, it would probably be the worst thing. He had gotten to know the pilot in the day or so they had spent in captivity, even if the man hadn't exactly been forthcoming all the time. Sheppard had been adamant about one thing, and that was that becoming a hybrid was his own private hell.

Not that Tony was about to tell anyone that Sheppard had told him that.

"No, he's fine," McGee answered. "Well, we _think_ he's fine. He didn't get injected with anything. But that's all we know. He was taken to the SGC for treatment and they haven't told us anything."

"The where?" DiNozzo asked, confused. McGee got an excited look on his face.

"So Sheppard didn't tell you anything?"

"Oh, you mean about space travel and other galaxies?" Tony answered. "Nope, nothing. What the hell's an SGC though?"

McGee didn't answer, because at that moment, Gibbs walked through the door, a small smile on his face. Tony grinned back.

"Hey, boss. Nice timing, back there."

"Eh, I do what I can," Gibbs answered. "How you feeling?"

"Grateful not to be hybrid chow," Tony told them. At their confused glances, he lost his good-nature. Obviously they didn't know much about what had happened. "They threatened to, uh, toss me in with the marine if Sheppard didn't cooperate."

That gave them wide eyes. In McGee's case at least. Gibbs, on the other hand, was only shocked for a second before he turned to angry. DiNozzo didn't want them to think about it.

"So, what did you all do while you were worried sick about me?" he asked, needing to get them off subject. It worked. McGee's face split into the widest grin possible.

"We went into outer space."

DiNozzo looked at him. "I'm trying to be serious here, McGrin."

"As are we," Ziva told him. "Apparently the United States has several spacecraft, and we were beamed up into one in order to find you."

DiNozzo's jaw dropped. "As in, actual, beam me up, Scotty?"

"We were given full disclosure," Gibbs told him, and then Tony knew they weren't joking. Gibbs was serious, and he wasn't finished there. "And, in a few days, that full disclosure will be a little less not so empty. I just got off the phone with Dr McKay. Sheppard's alive, recovering, and when he's feeling a little better, we get a tour of the SGC."

There was a moment of silence as they all digested that, unable to believe it. Then DiNozzo broke the quiet.

"Again. What's an SGC?"

* * *

The NCIS team shifted uncomfortably in the small elevator, a fact apparently not lost on the two men accompanying them. Then again, a week ago, they hadn't even known this place existed. And now they were being given the grand tour of the most secret place in the world.

It still didn't stop McKay from sharing a knowing grin with the young marine standing next to him.

The elevator stopped at a level deep underground, and McKay led them out, turning to face the team as they piled out. "Well," he began, spreading his arms. "Welcome to Stargate Command. I'll be your tour guide this morning. Please keep arms and legs inside this galaxy and don't touch anything."

Gibbs looked at the McKay with some concern, and then shared a look with his team. McKay sighed, his humour obviously lost on them, and then motioned with his hand. "Come on. General Landry wants to meet with you first."

He let the marine, Lieutenant Holden, lead the way, eyeing each team member as they walked past. Gibbs looked confident, as usual, like this was his right instead of a privilege the Atlantis team had asked for. Then again, Gibbs didn't know that.

Looking at Ziva, he guessed she did. He also guessed that despite her wide eyes she was actually cataloguing everything, in the way Mossad agents did. He also wondered if she would listen to the warning not to share anything with her own government.

McGee followed her, his eyes alight with excitement. McKay knew that this was like a dream come true to the young agent, the young sci-fi fanatic.

Smiling at his thoughts, McKay fell in beside DiNozzo, who he knew had been released from hospital yesterday. His arm was still in a sling, his shoulder bandaged carefully, obviously still tired after the ordeal in Ripley's facility. McKay knew he had had more than a dislocated shoulder after the time down there, including a concussion, a sprained wrist and dehydration. But at least he was up and about.

"You look better."

DiNozzo looked down at him and shrugged, before wincing. "Yeah. Feeling much better. Alive. Speaking of, how's Sheppard?"

McKay smiled. "You'll see. But first. General Landry wants to brief you."

He picked up his pace to walk next to Holden, glancing back at Gibbs with a friendly smile. "This way."

The meeting with Landry was every bit as short and succinct as McKay had suspected it would be, and five minutes after entering the office, he was leading them out of it. Teyla and Ronon had appeared while the general had them closed away, leaning against the table. McKay gave a shrug.

"I guess this is as good as place as any to start. So… welcome to the conference room," McKay told them glibly, with a grin. He swept his arm around to encompass the stairs and the screen and the…

"What's behind that?" McGee asked, pointing at the blast doors. McKay grinned mysteriously.

"That has a rightful place at the end of the tour," he told them, checking his watch. "Which will be about fifty… two minutes."

"Fifty-two?" DiNozzo asked. "You can't be more specific?"

McKay rolled his eyes at the taller agent, before heading for the stairs. "Yes, fifty-two minutes. Now, if you'll just follow me…"

For the next forty minutes, McKay showed the team around Stargate Command, taking them to the mess hall, the brig, and, upon Ronon's request, the armoury. He showed them images of space ships, and Goa'uld, told them of the Ori, the Replicators, and let Ronon show them how to use a few weapons. By the time they arrived at their second last stop, McKay's voice was nearing hoarse.

"And this, my friends, is the infirmary."

He pushed open the door and let Teyla lead them in. That was why he heard Sheppard before he saw him.

"About time, McKay. Let me guess, you were in someone's lab, drooling over something shiny and weapon-like while I'm stuck in here."

At the end of the room, Colonel Sheppard was sitting up in his bed, raising himself with one arm, since the other was secured tightly to his chest to stop him from using the shoulder that had been shot. He sat gingerly, being careful when he laid back against the pillows, thanking the nurse on duty with a smile when she helped him, before turning back to the men and women who had just come in.

"Hey," he greeted, before nodding at DiNozzo. "Good to see you up on your feet."

"Yeah, thanks to you," Tony told him. "Wish I could say the same about you though."

"Well, getting shot will do that to you," he responded with a shrug, before wincing. "But the Doc says I can get out of here soon. And then we'll be headed back to Atlantis."

"So you're looking forward to going back then?" McGee asked from his spot crowding the colonel's bed. The three Atlantis members standing nodded.

"Despite everything we face, it is our home," Teyla told them. "And maybe one day, you will be able to see it."

McKay snorted. "Don't count on it. The IOA is going to be very careful about anything and anyone travelling to or from the Pegasus Galaxy. Especially after this."

"What is happening to Ripley?" DiNozzo asked, having been filled in on all the details concerning the Stargate program as he recovered.

"Prison, somewhere," McKay told him. "Hopefully on another planet, though usually they only reserve that as a means of sanctuary. But security has been tightened at Area 51, the scientist who stole the material is being severely punished, and Ripley Pharmaceuticals is being shredded. The IOA is going to make sure no one ever does something like this again."

"Well, that's comforting at least," John muttered, before checking the time. "Anyway, you should go. Wouldn't want to miss the big finale."

McKay jumped as if prodded and then began ushering people out of the room. "He's right, we need to get going. Teams come back early sometimes, and it's not nearly as good as… who am I missing?"

By then he was on the other side of the room, and Ziva, McGee and Tony were between him and the door. But Gibbs had remained behind, and as McKay realized, the older agent looked around, his stare explaining explicitly what he wanted. McKay pointed out the door. "We'll just wait out here, shall we."

They closed the door behind them.

Gibbs turned back to Sheppard, who looked up at him. For a moment neither man said anything.

"How's Private Monash?" Gibbs asked when the silence almost became too much. He was sure Sheppard would know, and the man didn't disappoint.

"Alive. The docs are working on getting him back to normal, and they've had some experience with this kind of stuff." Sheppard gave a weak grin at that, and Gibbs understood. DiNozzo had told him everything in return, after all. So far as he knew, anyway. "Hopefully he'll be back to human in a week or three. Though he's going to need some serious therapy, no doubt."

The speech seemed to have worn the pilot out for a moment, a reminder to Gibbs of exactly what he had gone through. He just nodded, not sure what to say next. He was a man of few words, was Gibbs.

"I'm sorry," Sheppard told him suddenly. "About not bringing you in, at the start. But I had my orders."

Gibbs nodded after a moment. "I know. I understand. I know what top-secret means."

Sheppard chuckled. "I know you do. I've read your file as well, remember." He looked at the door. "Is DiNozzo going to be okay?"

Gibbs nodded again. "Yes, he is. Thanks to you."

The pilot shrugged uncomfortably. "Just doing my job," he answered, looking away. "Besides, it was my fault he was there in the first place. I'm just glad they didn't feed him to the hybrid."

The agent smiled. "Yeah, DiNozzo told me what they threatened, to do to him, and to you." He paused, and then decided to change the subject. "You're team is very…"

Sheppard chuckled. "Chaotic? Uncontrollable? I know, compared to your team…"

Gibbs laughed with him. "Yeah. I try to run a tight ship. Gets the job done."

Sheppard nodded. "I know. And I respect that. Hell, any military man would. But in the Pegasus Galaxy, sometimes following orders gets you or another person killed. I need them to speak up. And I'm sure your team would do the same, if they had to."

Gibbs nodded. Then he offered his hand, though not the one he normally would, considering Sheppard's shaking hand was bound to his chest.

Nodding, the pilot took it. "Thank you," he said. "For getting my team through the past few days. Normally the expedition leader would, but on Earth…"

"And thank you, for getting DiNozzo out alive," Gibbs responded. "You're a good man, Sheppard."

"And you're a good investigator, Gibbs." He dropped his hand. "If you ever need anything, just give the SGC a call. They'll get word to me."

Gibbs nodded, and turned for the door. "Likewise, Sheppard. I'll see you around." And he left, closing the door behind him.

Sheppard leaned back into the pillows, wondering if they ever would meet again. And then decided that with his luck in life, they probably would. He chuckled over that, and then closed his eyes, trying to picture the agents' looks when the wormhole whooshed out.

Damn, he should have gotten Rodney to take a camera.

* * *

Awww... I can't believe it's over!

Thanks again to everyone!


End file.
